Healing Broken Things
by Alet-san
Summary: [COMPLETE] KatsuKatsuKatsualittleangstKatsuKatsuKatsuAoshiMoreKatsu. Oh, and Katsu. :D Rating currently for graphic and disturbing imagery in a few chapters. Breif description of heterosexual intercourse. Drama-Angst-ActionAdventure-Humor-Romance.
1. 1

Okay, I had a detailed, explict (and only moderately sarcastic) warning up here until yesterday, so that people wouldn't run screaming away halfway through the story. It had been up there for about _ten and a half months_, so I figured no one cared. It was relevant to the story, if not the story itself, and I'm sure it saved me a shitload of flames . . . but it got deleted anyways. So you know what? Fuck it. You guys can read the story if you want, ignore it if you want, flame me if you want, but whatever. I'm considering that official administration permission to not put a warning on my story. Enjoy.

* * *

Yesterday, Misao-chan had asked him if he loved her. Yesterday, he had done the most difficult, most painful thing he had ever done in his life. Yesterday, he had broken the one heart that meant the most to him.  
  
So why did he feel relieved?  
  
Oh, he felt bad, yes. It had hurt, seeing that look on his Misao-chan's face, when he knew very well that if anyone else had put that look on her face, then he would have killed him without hesitation, oath aside. And he would have slept well that night, too. It made him feel almost unbearably guilty when she had run to her room and locked herself in, screaming at anyone who dared ask admittance. It was certainly enough to drive him back to the temple where he had lately only been spending an hour or so a day.  
  
And yet, when by all rights he should have been feeling like the lowest, most worthless piece of scum in Japan, why did he feel almost ... grateful?  
  
The wind rattled against the walls of the temple, and the tatami underneath him was cold and uncomfortable. He didn't notice.  
  
... Because Misao-chan would get over it, he finally decided. A sixteen-year- old girl, especially one as cheerful as Misao, could only angst alone in a locked room for so long before other things started to seem much more important. Eating regular meals, and taking daily baths, for example, or practicing kempo. Msiao's room was far too small to get any serious practicing done in (all of their rooms were), and he had never known Misao to go more than a day without some type of physical exertion  
  
Besides, she would get over him too, eventually. The first crush was always the hardest to get over, but, once that has been achieved, always seems the most silly in retrospect. All his desire not to hurt her did not change the fact that he did not love her as she would like, and he would not pretend otherwise. That would be disastrous, and he would not mislead his Misao-chan like that. He could not, he would not do that to her. Misao deserved someone she could love as an equal, someone who was superior to her in some ways, and inferior in others. She deserved someone who would smile for her as often as she needed. She did not deserve an introverted, hag-ridden man who would never be able to manage more than an almost-smile, and would never see her as anything but "Misao-chan."  
  
And, all other reasons aside, the thought of taking a lover who just about worshipped the ground he walked on was enough to make him physically ill.  
  
Aoshi's eyes snapped open, noting, in an offhand sort of way, that the candle providing the room's sole life had long ago burned out. He stood, slightly stiff from a day spent in unmoving contemplation, but only slightly. Misao-chan would stay in her room for a day or so, and then she would come out, and she would still be hurting. Days would pass – maybe weeks – and she would still hurt – maybe she would avoid him, openly snub him, or maybe she would try to pretend that everything was back to normal. Then one day, she would wake up, and his rejection would still hurt, yes, but not as much as that wrinkle in the futon she'd been sleeping on all night, or the gnawing in her belly from when she missed dinner last night. And then, one day, she would wake up, and it wouldn't hurt at all.  
  
Maybe by then, he would be able to smile for her. After all, Misao deserved a lover who was also her equal, her partner, a role he, who would always be "Aoshi-sama", would never be able to fill. And ... if it was not too much to hope for ... maybe he did too.  
  
Aoshi walked down the pathway that led from the temple to the Aoiya. He noticed the nightfall, with moon and stars, in the same, offhanded way he had noticed the lack of candle-flame.  
  
In the background, a bird sang, and the wind, calmed now from its almost- violent raging of before, brought him the scent of flowers. Aoshi did not smile, but – for a moment – he almost felt as if he could have.


	2. 2

When Misao left her room after four days of self-confinement (two and a half more than he would have thought she'd take), the first thing she did was not seek out Aoshi, or try to prove than the she was now much more grown-up (and therefore, presumably more attractive in his eyes).  No, the first person she sought out was Okina, and the first thing she did was … plan a party.  According to her, just before she and Okina had closeted themselves in a room for almost five days straight (with occasional breaks and "shopping trips"), it had been far too long since they had seen their friends in Tokyo, namely Himura and his adopted family, and that needed to be remedied.

Either Misao-chan was much more resilient then even _he_ had thought, or she was a very good actress.  Aoshi would bet at the latter, if he hadn't already known that Misao could no more hide her feelings than she could defeat Himura in combat.  So far, though, it didn't seem to be affecting her as much as it should be.  Aoshi wasn't sure whether he should be relieved or concerned about that.

Also, she and Okina hadn't let out any but the most vague and confusing ideas about what they were planning for the upcoming party.  They had sent out list of those few supplies that they were unable to get at themselves, but that had only left the five remaining not-quite-ex-Oniwabanshuu even more confused.  The small, random explosions coming from the chosen "Super-Secret-Party-Planning-Room" weren't very reassuring, either.

Aoshi sighed, and then braced himself against a wall in what had become almost second nature as another mini-explosion shook the walls of the Aoiya.  At least she wasn't brooding away into a melancholy husk.

Another explosion followed close on the heels of the first, and Kiro's muffled cursing played harmony to the tinkling melody of breaking plates.  Another sigh and Aoshi went to help clean up the mess.

Then again, was this really all that much better?

***************

Hmmm …

This was supposed to have been up yesterday …  Oh well.  I'll just put up two chapters today.  (This is, by the way, one of the only scenarios in which I will do so, if anyone cares.)

And now, to April-san, my one reviewer (one more than I expected!): THANK YOU!  Hehehe … sorry, I'm kinda hyper here.  Ignore me.  I do appreciate your comments though … just not enough to tell you the pairing.  I'm going to be all third-grader here and say "it's a secret!"  It's not Sano though, and it **won't be Kenshin (and Soujiro does not feature in this story … *pouts*).  If Sano is going to anyone in this, though, he's going to Saitou.  No questions about it.  Buuut … I'm still deciding whether or not to pair him up at all so right now it's a fifty/fifty for Sano/Saitou or Sano/nothing.**

I'll see how it turns out.


	3. 3

There was a party today at the Aoiya.  Yahiko and Jou-chan had been talking about it for weeks now.  Even Kenshin seemed absurdly happy that they were going to see their Kyoto friends again – but then Kenshin seemed absurdly happy about a lot of things.

_Look, Ayame-chan!  That cloud looks just like a little dog, doesn't it?  How funny!_

_Look, Suzume-chan!  Those two birds are building a nest – isn't that wonderful?_

_Hey, Sano!  I'm just going to go off and fight someone who is as good or better than me (funny how they were so few back when I was the Battousai, they certainly seem to be crawling out of the woodwork now!) and I'm not going to tell anyone about it because I don't want them to get hurt, despite the fact that most of them are fairly well capable of defending themselves!  Incidentally, I'm going to be breaking my promise to you for the nth time, because I don't want you to get hurt either, forget that you of all my friends are closer to my skill level than anyone and actually have a reasonable chance at defeating me if we fight hand-to-hand (and that's not just because I suck at kempo)!  Say goodbye to Kaoru-dono for me – oh, wait, I already did that!  So I guess you don't have to worry about anything at all, do you?  Isn't it great?_

Well, maybe not that last one.  At least, not in so many words.

Sagara Sanosuke sighed and kicked a pebble in the dusty Kyoto street.  At least they had left a few days ago, so they wouldn't have to ride on one of those giant tea-kettles again.  He shuddered at the thought, and bumped into someone.

"Sor'y, man-"

"Oh, it's no problem, young man.  Good day to you."

Sano grunted, and resumed brooding, paying no attention to the cheerful man who had kept walking along.  If he had been feeling charitable, he would have allowed for the fact that, of all of them, Kenshin would probably be the only one who would know what was wrong, and not even Kenshin could be expected to remember everything.  Had he been feeling charitable, he would have recognized, even if only mentally, that Kenshin's sympathy or understanding would, quite frankly, not be worth a damn – not for this.  At least – had he been feeling charitable – he would have understood that he was being very immature sulking over the whole thing like this, and that the least he could do way try to put on a good face, get royally drunk at the party, and hope no one thought anything of it.

Sano was not feeling very charitable today.

Oh, sure, he was being a brat about this, so much so that Kaoru and Yahiko were even now walking a few feet ahead of him, tired with his attitude (Kenshin, the smiling bastard, hadn't done anything to indicate if he had noticed Sano's mood, or indeed, if he had noticed that everyone was looking remarkably vertical today).  But still …

K'so – why did he have to act all happy _today_, of all days?


	4. 4

Sagara was quiet.

In a room of noise, that was what caught Aoshi's attention.  Sagara was young (could he only be a handful of years older, himself?), and Sagara was cheerful, and, most of all, Sagara was loud.

So why was he so quiet?

The young roosterhead sat against the wall, cuddling an appropriated sake jug and glaring at everyone who dared come near as if they personally were responsible for every plague, injustice, sorrow, and dead kitten in the world.

Actually, (and he would definitely **not have appreciated the comparison), he looked very much like Saitou on a bad day, _sans cigarette and You-Are-A-Worthless-Piece-Of-Dust-And-Not-Worthy-To-Lick-My-Shoes-After-I've-Walked-A-Mile-In-Decaying-Infant-Corpses-And-Fecal-Matter-Look._**

He didn't say a word though.

Aoshi was still wondering what this meant when a polite knock came on the door, and an oh-so-careful, unobtrusive throat delicately cleared.  He was still hypothesizing about what apocalyptic event Sagara's current despondency might provoke when Omasu slid the paper door open and admitted the young man who stood just outside the threshold.  Even when the unfamiliar young man walked across the room to still-silent Sagara, he was trying to figure out what had caused the sudden, dramatic change in the roosterhead – though he did focus about half of his mind on thoroughly analyzing the stranger and any possible threat he might pose.

Old habits die hard, after all, and it wasn't as if he was chasing after this particular one with a burning brand and a very sharp knife.

The stranger – and he had definitely never seen the man before in his life – was tall, a bit shorter than Sagara himself (about a head shorter than Aoshi, but then again, just about everyone was), and he had the longest hair Aoshi had seen on any man (save Himura) since the Revolution.  He wore a green headband similar to Sagara's (a coincidence?), and a red jacket draped casually over his shoulders.  But what _really made Aoshi's eyes narrow was the inconsistency in him: the man had the ink-stained, delicate hands of an artist, the carefully polite, agreeable manner of a politician, and the cat-footed walk of a spy.  A very – **very – faint scent of gunpowder drifted to his nose …**_

But Sagara wasn't quiet anymore.

They spoke in tones to soft for even the former Okashira of the Oniwabanshuu to hear across a crowded, noisy room (the stranger did not have a forceful enough presence o make all in the room aware of him – Aoshi doubted anyone but him, Omasu, Okina, Himura, and Sagara himself had noted this man's appearance), and he could not read their lips with any hope of accuracy from the position he was in.  Whatever they said, however, was not enough that it needed to be told in more than a few sentences – or maybe to important to be said in anything but.  Sagara grinned, and clasped the stranger's hand, pulling himself (and the jug of sake) up from the floor.

The roosterhead looked over to Himura – as did Aoshi, completely out of reflex – caught his eye, and exchanged a meaningful glance.  Himura nodded, smiling brightly (Aoshi wasn't sure if the man had stopped smiling for a second after he had walked into the walls of the Aoiya) and gestured the two to leave.

They did, again speaking so he couldn't hear, positioned so he couldn't see (though it couldn't have been purposeful), but by then Aoshi was watching out of habit more than anything else.  The stranger was obviously a friend of Sagara's, and Himura trusted him enough to let his best friend leave, alone, and near-midnight without any apparent concern, so Aoshi really had very little to worry about.

"That was Tsukoika-san, that it was."

"Hm?"  Aoshi turned his head over and down.  He hadn't even noticed Himura move near him.

"That man," explained the tiny redhead.  "He is Tsukoika Katsuhiro, known as Tsukoika Tusnan, and he is one of Sano's best and truest friends, that he is.  He is not very well known by any of us, I am afraid, but I am quite positive that he would rather die a thousand deaths than see Sano come to any harm, that he would."

"So that's why you let them walk of like that."  Aoshi's tone was not accusatory, but merely commentarial.

"Eh?  Oh, no, that is not why."  Himura smiled pleasantly up at Aoshi.  "The truth is, Aoshi, that Tsukoika-san is the only person in the world who could help Sano today, just as, for today, Sano is the only person that might make Tsukoika-san laugh."

Himura turned back to the party (and Kamiya).  "That is why I let them go, that it is.  That, and the fact than Sano is perfectly able to take care of himself and Tsukoika-san both."  He shot Aoshi one last, impossibly (and almost infuriatingly) cheerful smile before walking away.  "You should join the party, Aoshi.  It is tremendous fun, and there is no threat to the Aoiya all of us are not able to handle together, that there is not."

_Together …_

There had not been very much togetherness in Aoshi's life as of late …

With a sigh that was only halfway reluctant, Aoshi pulled himself off the wall, and went to join Himura.

************

Okay, two points I want to make clear (well, three):

1 – My use of the English "Revolution" instead of the Japanese Ba-whatsists.  As you may have guessed from the previous sentence I couldn't spell the Japanese title for the Revolution if you cut both my arms off, and I wouldn't even do that great of a job if you didn't.  Until I learn otherwise, the English version is staying.  (Which doesn't really bug me, I just wanted to get that out of the way)

2 – It is only slightly less annoying to write "that it is" or some variation than it is to write "de gozaru" after practically ever other sentence the man speaks, so that's what I'll be doing.  Another case where the vernacular reigns supreme. ^_^

3 – This isn't really a point, but I do want to make this absolutely, positively, no-doubt-about-it clear: TSUKOIKA KATSUHIRO IS MY FAVORITE CHARACTER IN ANY MANGA, PERIOD, BAR **NONE**.  Okay?  So we'll being seeing a bit more of him too.

Just FYI.


	5. 5

_Not all windows are set in walls._

The two men had been leaning against the bridge railing for quite some time.  Both of them were … not quite _drunk_, not yet, anyways, but more … happy.  That loose, bemused happiness that comes some time after you have waved a cheerful goodbye to the cold world of sobriety but have not quite dived into the fluorescent-pink-and-yellow ocean of true drunkenness.  It was that stage when tongues are loosened but not yet given a handful of cash and sent out for a night on the town, when memories come freely but it doesn't seem to matter so much, when you know, without a doubt, that life is suffering and suffering is life and you will never have one without the other, and you look back on _your life and realized how undeniably and completely you've __fucked it up and it hurts, God it __hurts like nothing else but it __doesn't matter because the alcohol is so warm and nice, and the bunnies running circles around your head are so much more interesting, and you're just so goddamn __mellow …_

They were pathetically unprotected, and blissfully uncaring of the fact.  Any other night, any other city, and they would have been easy pickings, but people had seen the one before, and if his friend didn't really look like much, well neither had _he._  Plus, people had seen where they had gone to upon arriving, had seen who greeted them and who the came with – and the past was not so far gone in the minds of those who lived in this area that they could or would ignore what _that _had meant.

_Not all windows have panes_.

There was a connection between the two, who leaned/stood in such comfortable silence.  It would be recognized by any old war friends, or even two veterans who had never met but were joined by the same, common experience.

'This is what I have gone though,' it said.  'And you have too.  People died out there, good people and bad people and people who were just doing what they were told.  They didn't die clean, and they didn't die quick, and I couldn't walk out and give them mercy because if I did, then I would die too.  So would you.  These people they were my friends they were my family I had never met them I knew them better than anyone I think that little boy saved my life what was his name again?  He's dead now, they're all dead now and they matter so much more than the people who are alive because no living man ever danced behind my eyeballs and no living man ever had his stomach pouring out like that, with his blood staining the dirt and his intestines trampled into the ground while the soldiers and the little boys fought on him because there was nowhere else to fight, and the street was _paved with the dead and the dying and the ones who only whished they were.  I was a monster then, and I fought against monsters and we weren't fighting for peace or equality or a new world, we were fighting because if we didn't fight we'd die, and if the choice came to it I would rather kill you than die myself, I'd say I'm sorry but I'm not because _I just wanted to stay alive goddamnit._  So did you.  This is what I have gone through and this is what you have gone through and maybe all those people deserved to die more than we but they probably didn't and maybe we deserved to live more than they but we probably didn't, and it doesn't matter now because they are dead and we are not and that is truth and that is unchanging and all the good intentions in the world can't make up for what we saw.  You know.  I can stand here wit you and I don't have to lie to myself so no one else will see what's wrong because you know too and you will not blame.  I can be here with you and I don't have to pretend that I can hear flies buzzing without smelling the fresh-rotting corpses that always used to come with them, and I can stand here with you and look at this river, this colddarkdeep river, without any light to tell me the truth and I don't have to pretend that I'm not thinking of blood, because I am and you are too and we can just stay here and we won't say anything ,oh no we won't, because we each know that the other is too busy hearing the screaming._

'This is what I have gone through,' that connection said to anyone who could read it.  'You have too.  This is what we are and what we were and what we know.  Aren't the stars beautiful tonight?'

_Not all windows are made of glass._

Golden eyes shinned in the shadows, but not too brightly because that would ruin the whole point of being in the shadows in the first place.  They watched the two friends stay in easy silence for a very long time, but it didn't matter to him because it obviously didn't matter to them and he had the whole night anyways, didn't he.  When the two righted themselves and started walking along again (not swaying _too noticeably), the eyes closed for a moment and then opened.  Kyoto was a big city, and it would not do to have either of them come to harm; so he followed._

Just in case. 

****************

April-san:

Too short?  Well, they're not up to my usual chapter length, yeah, but what do you want me to do, write a couple ten-page soliloquies every day? *whimpers* I don't even think that's _possible for me, not unless I want to cut out on such pleasant luxuries such as eating, sleeping, and being a complete lazy bum because I'm just a teenager so I _can_._

Hmph.  Well, in spite of some absolutely _unreasonable demands coming from the peanut gallery, I guess I _will_ keep going then, just out of spite._

How do you like _that!_

(I'm sorry, but I just can't keep going on like that - *bursts out into uncontrollable laughter*.  Seriously?  I do try my best but sometimes a scene lasts for a couple pages and sometimes it only lasts for one, so that's all I write.  I know that, I know anyone who is a reasonably good author (and, in my opinion, calling you a reasonably good author is like calling a mint-condition set of Neil Gamien's _Sandman_ series for five bucks a reasonably good deal) knows that, no one's offended at all, and I'm actually near-speechless that you are giving me all this encouragement.

I mean, I already _know I'm perfect, but you think you'd want to give me a swelled head or something.  ^_~_

*snicker*

Thanks for reviewing.)


	6. 6

Himura was out on the porch, waiting for Sagara and his friend to return, no doubt.  Everyone else had gone to sleep long ago, leaving Kenshin and Aoshi the only ones up.  Aoshi, used to being the only thing awake and aware, if not necessarily moving, at this time, was not sure if he appreciated the almost-company or not.

He sat on the porch next to Himura, not out of any sense of companionship, true or false, but merely because the porch was a very convenient place to sit.  Just because Himura was there, it didn't mean anything.  He certainly hadn't chosen his place because the tiny redhead had looked lonely, sitting there in the dark.

Aoshi certainly didn't notice the slight, grateful incline of the head Himura had given him before turning his attention back to the street.

He wondered if Sagara knew what kind of a friend he had in Himura.  He wondered if Himura knew the same about Sagara.  They probably did – and just as probably had never said anything about it.  Aoshi would have snorted softy, had he been a man given to verbal demonstration.  The two could not have been more different, in appearance and in temperament, and yet they acted like they had been brothers for their entire lives, when Aoshi knew perfectly well they hadn't even known each other for five years.

Two figures – more like one and a half, the way they were leaning on each other for support – walked down the street with surprising steadiness, given the amount of alcohol they must have consumed.  Himura stood up to greet them, smiling warmly at the more conscious-looking of the two.  It was not Sagara.

"Welcome, Tsukoika-san.  Thank you for being there for Sano."  Aoshi had stood up with Himura, and watched as the stranger – Tsukoika – shifted the burden of a half-sleeping Roosterhead off his shoulder.

"Heeeeeey, Keeenshhhhhiiiiiin.  H'w y' doiiiiin'?  me 'n K'tsu foun' d' beshtesht bar lik y' wou'n't _believe_!  Ishnt shat jusht greeaa …"

Sagara had lifted his head up during the slurred, drunken speech, but now it sagged back down again, his eyes fluttering closed and his body falling to the porch with a dull _thud.  The three men looked at his unconscious form for a little bit before Tsukoika spoke up._

"Shit."  Oddly enough, he sounded nowhere near as inebriated as Sagara had.  "I knew that last dozen was pushing it, even for Sano."

"D-d-dozen?"  Aoshi almost whished he could see Himura's face from the angle he was standing at.  It would probably have been priceless.

"Yeah, that sounds 'bout right."  Obviously Tsukoika was well aware of exactly how much sake Sagara was in the habit of consuming when allowed free rein.  "D'you think you could help me drag him inside or something …"

He trailed off when Aoshi stepped out from the shadows and hoisted Sagara's softly-snoring form over his shoulder.  He didn't look surprised though – either he had known _someone_ was in the shadows, or he was very adept at concealing surprise.  Either way, Aoshi gave him credit.  For some reason, a lot of people had problems keeping up a cool face in his presence.

Off to the side, Himura was still looking faintly stunned, mouthing "dozen?" to himself over and over again.

"Hn.  Thanks.  Are you going to take him to a room?"

"Yes."  Aoshi didn't need to pause to think over his next statement, though he did anyways.  "You are welcome to stay as well, if you have no other arrangements."

"Ah -"  Tsukoika sounded taken aback, then thoughtful.  "Actually, I was planning on just renting a room for the night but," he shrugged, though it was more heard than seen in the darkness, "sure, why not.  Sano drank most of my money anyways.  I am Tsukoika Katsuhiro."  He added the introduction almost as an afterthought.

Aoshi nodded, and turned to go into the Aoiya.  "Shinomiri Aoshi.  If you would follow me."

Tsukoika did, and they left Himura blinking on the porch.  Immediately, his stunned act dropped, and he stared into the shadows with an intensity fit to make a normal man soil himself.  There was no hostility in his gaze though, and after a moment, when his eyes focused on one bit of shadow that looked no different than any other, he softened, almost completely.

"Thank you very much, for walking them home."

As could be expected, the shadows made no response, but Kenshin smiled anyways.

******************

Okay, I actually had this done yesterday, but ff.net was acting screwy and wouldn't let me log in, so I guess this is another two-in-one day.  Damnit, I absolutely _hate_ being off-schedule – especially when it's mine!


	7. 7

Hn.  Wonderful.  Now the Battousai (no, he was _Himura Kenshin now, wasn't he?) probably thought he was secretly friends with the ahou.  Or in love with him.  He didn't even pause before rejecting that out of hand.  Battousai was definitely not innocent to things between men, not being a soldier himself (a soldier with no regiment, and no general but the heads of the revolution, true, but still a soldier) but … no._

Some things were too horrible to contemplate, even for _him_.  Too horrible or too ridiculous.

The ahou couldn't even walk properly without help – all he had done was made sure that the only help the unlikely pair (for who had ever heard of a rooster befriending the barnyard cat?) wouldn't need any help.  He hadn't even _done_ anything.  Either tonight was an exceptionally quiet night, or the rooster had built up such a reputation that it held firm even when he was obviously drunk off his ass.  Or his friends had.

Probably the later, mused Saitou as he lit another cigarette.

He really should quit that, someday.  Terrible things could come from it, he'd heard.  One day, he would.

Just not today.

He'd just gotten a new pack today.

He wondered if either the ahou or his long-haired kitten-friend had even known they were being followed.  Surely not – well, he corrected as he remembered the incongruous steadiness of the artist's steps when compared to the amount of sake he had supposedly consumed, probably, _most likely not.  The ahou, certainly, had barely been aware of his own shadow following him._

What about Shinomiri, then?  Likely, if Himura had noticed – a hitokiri had no reason to be anything beyond exceptionally good at reading the shadows, but a ninja, _especially_ the Okashira of the Oniwabanshuu, had to _be_ the shadows.  No, Shinomiri had seen him.  There was no way he would have stayed alive as long as he had if he hadn't been able to see Saitou Hajime when he wasn't even making more than a token (for him) attempt to remain hidden.  He had drawn no notice to his knowledge, but, then again, Shinomiri was not a man to draw notice to anything if there was no need to.

A good kind of man.

Saitou took another draw from his cigarette, completely aware and yet uncaring of the city around him, as he ambled slowly down the abandoned street.  It was a quiet time in Kyoto – the inhabitants of the day had just gone to sleep, the inhabitants of the night were not yet awake.  Probably another factor in why neither the ahou nor his friend had been ambushed.

For no reason at all, Saitou suddenly imagined what the look on the ahou's face would be if he was informed that someone had been trailing hi when he was dead drunk in near-equal parts sake and nostalgia.  Then, later, when told exactly _who had been trailing him._

In the shadows, he smirked, and kept walking.

***************

Here it is.

…

Oh dear _God, you have no idea how much fun I'm going to be having with the next few chapters or so._

*snicker*


	8. 8

Ah, Sano.  You've changed so much, and not at all.  One thing hasn't changed, though – you're still stronger than I am.  In combat too, yes, but anyone could tell that.  You are stronger than me in your heart, Sano.  You kept your smile.

I didn't.

Do you know what it's like to go ten years without laughing?  Of course not.  You laughed during your time as Zanza, and smiled too.  Probably not a _healthy laugh, and almost certainly not a sane smile, but a genuine one, however twisted.  I couldn't manage that._

Sometimes I still don't think I can.

Shinomiri must be very strong, Sano, to carry you like he is doing right now.  It took all my strength to support you, and make it seem like it was nothing.  Dear God, but you grew up big – I remember when _I _was the taller one.  Do you?  No, you probably don't.

You're right, Sano, I do remember too much, don't I?

Ah, this must be the room – Shinomiri is stopping.  He asks me if I want to share it with you, and I respond, but truthfully, Sano, I don't even know what I just said.  He dumps you onto the futon, the walks to a cupboard and pulls out a second.

Ah.  So I'm staying then.  You don't mind, do you Sano?  You shouldn't – remember how often we slept together when we were little?  "Like puppies in a basket," as Sagara-taichou would always say.

I'm not mad at you for taking his name, Sano.  Truly, I'm not.  You needed it more, proof that you loved him and he loved you – you always did need to prove things to yourself, Sano, even when everyone else was already convinced.

Shinomiri is done now – he's leaving.  I say something to him – thank you, or goodnight, nor some such.  I'm not sure.  I drank far too much tonight, Sano, if I can't even hear the words coming out of my own mouth.  Or maybe, it was nowhere near enough, if I can still think – albeit hazily.

That man moves like a panther, Sano – Shinomiri, I mean.  I'm no fighter, not like you, but I saw enough in the Sekihoutai to tell when someone else is.  I do not think I would like to get on the wrong side of that man, Sano – I don't think you would, either.  Have you told me about him, before?  I don't remember.

He leaves the room and suddenly I don't think you did.  I'd remember if you told me about someone with such a beautiful ass.

Oh, _damnit, did I just think that?_

Shut up, Sano – that was purely rhetorical.  How would you like it if I told you what I think the _real_ reason is as to why you're so obsessed with … *ahem* … _beating that "psycho-ass-crazy-cricket-man-cop"?_

Hmph.

I thought so.

Damnit, I need to get laid even more than I thought if I've stooped to fantasizing about random and most likely extremely dangerous men I've only just met.  I wonder where that pretty boy who used to wander around the fish market in Tokyo went off to …

Sano, I'm only going to ask you one more time – **shut up**.  Do I ridicule you when you walk around practically drooling down the geisha's dresses?  No.  No I do not.

Except when you really deserve it.

No that's _not every time, baka.  It's not my fault that you do subtle like a regiment does laundry._

No, not a regiment made up of little Himuras, Sano.  A regiment made up of little Saitous.

_What_?

_Why_ would – 

Oh, _fine.  They can all have their little cigarettes, too._

I swear to God you're crazy Sano.

No.  NononoNO!  I do not want to hear it, Sano.  I'm not listening to you, Sano!  Lalalalalala _I-can't-hear-yooooou!_

Oh, just shut up, Sano.

Look, I'm going to sleep now, Sano, and I'm not going to wake up.  See?  Eyes closed: sleeping.  Do not bother.

…

…

Yes, I love you too, Sano.  You're my brother.  Now go to sleep.

Baka.

****************

God I love Katsu.  And um, before anyone asks, no, he wasn't actually talking to Sano.  Real!Sano was passed out over Aoshi's shoulder, and later on a futon.  Talking to "Sano" is just a little habit my version of Katsu picked up in the ten years between their meetings.

Yes, he's a bit crazy.  We're talking about the man who wanted to BLOW UP THE ENTIRE MEJI GOVERNMENT here.  Soujirou killed dozens of people while being a little human-killing-machine for Shishio, Aoshi went stark raving I'm-going-to-kill-you-all crazy after the deaths of his four friends, and Sano spent ten years BEATING UP PEOPLE FOR FUN.  The male cast of RK, in case you haven't noticed, isn't among the most all-around mentally stable collection of characters.

Oh, and Lychee2 – you just made my day.  Seriously.  *showers with insane amount of hugs*  I love reviews.  Fuck it, I'm a writer – I _live off reviews.  Unfortunately, I'm worthless at giving them, so I can't very well ask for them without being a real hypocrite.  But if anyone wants to leave one anyways, feel free to do so._

That's about as close to review-begging I can get without feeling completely worthless, so um … yeah, I'm going to stop here now.

Next update sometime tomorrow, as always.  Maybe late, maybe early, but before 11:59 PM Eastern Daylight Savings Time (Spring forward sucks man, but Fall back is Heaven on Earth).


	9. 9

Sano woke up.

Of course, the actual process was nothing near as simple as might be suggested by that minimalist description.  First there was that gradual regaining of consciousness whilst still clinging to and declaring passionate love for the blissful realms of the comatose.  This was soon followed by that immediate, almost thoughtless checklist Sano put himself through every morning.

Pants?: on.

Bits and pieces?: still there.

Strange, and/or recent wounds?: no.  For once.

Newly opened wounds?: no.  Wait … no.

_Ahem_ … "used" pants?: no.  good or bad?

Hungry?: like a horse.  Mmmm.  Hooorse.  Yum.

Unknown person snuggled up to side?: wait … what?!

He sniffed once.

Oh.  Just Katsu.  No problem then.

Then, with the list completed, Sano could move on to the other business, like seeing if, besides being physically _there his limbs were also up to the stressful task of sitting up (he'd say standing, but that was __way too ambitious).  Plus there was all that time spent trying to pry his eyes open without having to revert to using a hammer and chisel._

I short, he woke up.

Obviously, it didn't happen nearly so fast as that, though.

Once Sano had at least dipped a toe into the murky waters of wakefulness, he decided to be motivated and try opening his eyes.

Fuck.

Big mistake, Sano.  _Big._

Fuckity-fuckfuck.

A thousand burning needles stabbed into his brain; fingers of pure, cackling white light pawed at his eye sockets and pulled out the offending organs; every star that ever was, is, and would be in existence exploded in the center of his pupils.

And this was facing _away from the window._

He groaned, and buried his face in the pillow, letting his friend shift formlessly in his sleep.

Oh, _fuck._

********************

I went to sleep at two o'clock in the morning today.  Not last night, _today.  I woke up sometime a little _before_ seven.  Today I ran upwards of six or seven miles (3½ - 4 there, 2½ - 3 back, then another ½ mile a few hours later) and went through approximately an hour of intense physical exertion (Karate - I'm getting my black belt in Tae Kwon Do in December!  Unless I screw up, and fail one of the tests.) I've just finished writing this and it's not-quite ten PM.  I still have to clean my room and do my Geometry homework.  I have yet to get in __any of the FFVIII playing time I had hoped to._

Trust me, with the exception of the Hangover from Hell, I know _exactly how Sano feels.  (And, actually, I didn't really think today was all that bad of a day.  Shows you how fucked up __my head is.)_

Clod: I know exactly what you're talking about, and it annoys the hell out of me too.  I mean, personally, I have nothing against Misao or Kaoru.  I actually think they're both very strong characters (when not obsessing over their respective love interests) and I respect them a lot.  However, I also am of the opinion that Aoshi/Misao is one of the least-likely-to-actually-happen pairings in RK, period.  Just because I'm making the object of her desire 1) completely uninterested in her that way and 2) at least a bi, that doesn't mean I have anything against the weasel-girl myself.  ^_^  And thank you for giving me an opportunity to put that in writing. (yes, I tend to go on spiels, and I probably repeated myself no less than five time in the above paragraph.  Deal with it.)

And no, you were a bit off on the pairing too.  (and by "a bit" I mean "a lot")

Brittany67: 1) not telling.  2)  Honestly, I just don't really have a feel for the guy yet.  He'll probably appear later on in the story (a _lot_ later on) when I'm running out of things to write or am feeling particularly Sou-fangirlish *waves pennant*.  Besides, I kinda forgot about him in the original idea, so umm … yeah.  Smiley-boy got the short end of the stick there.

Erp!


	10. 10

Waking up is a very complicated process.  First, you have to shift around for awhile, trying to decide whether it's worth more to wake up or keep on dreaming.  Once the choice for consciousness has been made (however unwillingly), then you have to go through all that business of the scrunching facial expressions, accelerating heartbeat, higher frequency of breaths per minute, snuggling up to whomever you happen to be sleeping with in a last ditch attempt to fool yourself into thinking that you're not really going to wake up …

_Hold it._

Snuggle …?

I crack open an eye cautiously, and check as to the identity of the slightly whimpering form I'm curled against so comfortably.

Whimpering?

Aaaahhhh.  It's Sano.  I look closer.  Correction: it's Sano with the mother of all hangovers.  Seeing as how I myself am suffering from the tender ministrations of what must be the daughter of all hangovers, or at the very least a favored niece, I'm not feeling particularly motivated to make him sit up.

Yes, I know he's awake.  Sano drools in his sleep, and he's not doing any now.

I get up, stretching slightly (which does _not_ make me look like a cat, thank you very much Sano) and begin rummaging around for my clothes.  At least I had enough sense to take most of them off before going to sleep last night – I only brought the one pair, and it would do to wear rumpled clothes when you're a guest.

Speaking of, I wonder what happened last night.  Nothing too bad, obviously – that I would remember – but I don't have much recollection beside a pleasing fuzziness.  I remember Sano falling over, and the look on Himura's face (I want to snicker just thinking about it), and … and … oh, _shit_.

I remember a certain tall, dark ninja.  Mainly, I remember my reaction to said tall, dark ninja, or, more accurately, said ninja's ass.

God, but I hate being drunk.  It's a good thing no one can read my mind – hope I wasn't too obvious about staring.

It's not really that I'm ashamed to be attracted to the man (after all, I am a nineteen-year-old recluse – it's a lucky day when I'm not attracted to the _fishmonger_), but this is one of _Sano's friends_.  Now that I'm sober, I do remember Sano telling me about him – and I also remember Sano telling me about a certain weasel-girl.  _She's Sano's friend too, though he might not make much of it._

Peddler's of admittedly questionable foodstuffs are one thing, friends of Sano are something totally different.  Friends of Sano are completely off-limits, no questions asked or answered.

Unless, of course, said friends make the first move.

Stupid.  I snort, and Sano whimpers a little more piteously.  Yes, that would happen, Himura would shave his head bald and completely forsake laundry (yes, I know about that too – it's handy, sometimes, being friends with one of the most talkative drunks in Tokyo), and look at those pigs over there – aren't they flying so nicely?

I shake my head, spare one last, pitying thought for Sano (I always _did_ hold my sake better than him), and walk out of the room, using commendable force of will not to dive back in under the blankets and go right back to sleep.

Wakey-wakey, Katsy-chan.  Time to greet the morning.

Good fucking morning.

**************

Urgh.  Don't wanna write.  Wanna play FF8.  Zell hot.  Seifer and Zell fucking like bunnies hotter.  All girls in that game fucking annoying.  Except Quistis.  Quisty rocks.  And Squall's a jackass.  But he's a hot jackass, and, more importantly, we see the game from his POV, so he's like our jackass.

I wonder what would happen if someone re-did FF8 from Seifer's POV?  I'd buy it.  God, is anyone actually reading this?

No.  No they are not.

So why are you writing it, you fucking idiot?

You just answered your own question, bitch.

Why, yes.  Yes I did.

Damnit, but you're annoying.

Shut up.

Fuck you.

Make me.

*slaps self silly several times*

Wow.  I feel … so not better at all.  Alright, that's it.  Writing: no; Playstation: yes.

Goodbye.


	11. 11

Misao snuck out of the Aoiya a while ago– well, left quietly.  Himura ruined her disappearance act by noticing the moment she started to stand up.  Damn him.  She scrapped her knuckles against a peddelr's stall and cursed silently, angered all out of proportion to the tiny cut.

Damn them all.

Damn Himura for noticing, damn Sano for being hung over, damn Sano's friend for being so polite when it was obvious (to Misao, and anyone else who was trained to noticed little things) that he was hung over too (not so bad as Sano, though) and uncomfortable when the only one he really knew was Sano, damn Ao-

Ao …

She growled to herself, and quite possibly terrified a little boy passing by her.  She didn't care.  What kind of Okashira was she if she couldn't even say a stupid name, not even in her head?

A pathetic one, that's what kind.

Pateticweakworthlessstupidignorantlittlegirl –

SHUT UP!  She screamed at herself, stopping dead still in the middle of the street.  People avoided her and didn't even notice.  She didn't, either.

Aoshi-sama wouldn't be so stupid, was her final, desperate thought.

There.  She'd done it.  She'd said his name.

Aoshi-sama.

Aoshi-sama, Aoshi-sama, Aoshi-samaAoshi-samaAoshi-sama_Aoshi-sama_!

Hah!  She could too say it.  She could even stay in the same room with him, too.  Hadn't she spent all last night in his presence and not ran screaming and crying from the room, not even _once?_

(She'd _wanted to, but …)_

No.  Don't think about that.  You are strong.  It was a mantra, repeated over and over again.  A child hoping that if she said something often enough, it would be true.

_It doesn't hurt anymore._

(It didn't.

It DIDN'T!)

Misao hadn't even noticed when she'd started walking again, but she didn't really care about little things like that.  Ninjas were above the little things.  She wanted to do something, give … Aoshi-sama something – not to say that she was still in love with him!

(She wasn't.

Wasn't.)

Just … just to say that she was alright now –

(She was.

Waswaswas.)

– and that she was still his little sister, right?

(Right?)

Wait a minute.

Misao stopped.  Someone ran into her.  She didn't notice.

Little things.

Wasn't Sano's friend an artist?

*******************

Again, I really don't feel like writing.  But I will.  And I did.  And now I can play FF8.

AND IT'S FRIDAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(By the way, everyone go to www.penny-arcade.com.  It's a webcomic, and it's really funny today.  Or maybe I'm just being weird.  But you should go to Penny Arcade anyways, if you don't already.  Is mad fun, man.  In fact, it's wang-tastic!)


	12. 12

Night crept into the room.

It was noon, but anyone who knew the night knew that it wasn't bothered by such petty details.

Surprise was expressed.  Questions were asked, then answered.  Mostly.  Sort of.  A little.  Enough.

Hands were waved, eyes pled with eyes.  A conspiracy was whispered, and agreement made.  A secret passed hands but the grins stayed where they were, mirrors.

The night crept out again, and was sunshine, but the twilight stayed inside.  He had been bored, but now he had work to do.

And besides, the night was young yet, impressionable and almost innocent.  A few easy favors would do little harm.

*****************

Wooo!  That was very short.  And very weird.  But I wrote it in ten minutes, so what do you want from me?  Couldn't walk for half the day without back grumbling in pain.  Not really screaming, but still hurting.  Still hurts now, too.  Just not as much.  Sparring sucks.  Getting kicked in the back sucks more.  Today is sentence fragment day, can't you tell?

Hehehehe.

Squirrel is high.  So tired.  But so hyper.  Have date to homecoming.  Am told shoes "too summery".  Must by new pair.  Damnit.  No really.  Hate shopping.  Hate shoe shopping more.  Is ancient torture ritual, I swear it.

Is _very high.  Going now!_


	13. 13

"Aoshi-sama!"

He turned, wondering what on earth could make Misao-chan shout so gleefully.  And why was she holding that scroll like it contained the secret to enlightenment?

"Look, Aoshi-sama!  Look at what Tsukoika-san painted for me!  Look!"  She held the scroll out to him, practically trembling from excitement.

More than she normally was, he meant.

He unrolled the scroll slowly, more humoring Misao-chan than out of any curiosity to see _how good of an artist they had housed a few nights ago._

Because he wasn't curious as to what any artist could paint that would make Misao-chan glow so brightly.  Not at all.

It was good to see his little sister so happy again, though.

The scroll unrolled fully, and momentarily struck all thoughts form Aoshi's mind.  Well, all save one: perfect.  It was perfect.

They were all there.  Hyottoko, Beshimi, Hanya, Shikijou, as well as Omasu, Okon, Shiro, Kuro, Okina, Misao-chan, and himself.  The entire Oniwabanshuu was there, in that painting.  Together – like they hadn't been for years.

He noticed, with an offhand look, that everyone in the picture looked as they did today; old Okina still old, Misao-chan almost grown, even he did not wear his once-signature trenchcoat.  He wondered if that meant anything, and decided it did.

He figure out what that was later, though.

Aoshi looked at his old friends, who looked as though any minute they might step off the paper and tell him no, it was all a joke, or _course_ they weren't really dead, and they couldn't believe he'd fallen for it so easily.

They were smiling.

"This is …"  Aoshi looked up at Misao, whose eyes were shinning and almost suspiciously bright.  She smiled even wider, and he knew he didn't have to say anything.  He wouldn't have known where to begin.

"Isn't it?  TsukoikaTsukoika-san said it was to thank us for letting him stay here for free, and on such short notice.  He gave it to me to give to you."

"He is a very good artist," Aoshi murmured, more to make a noise than for any real reason – an almost unheard of happening.  "This would more than cover any expenses owed if sold."  But again, that was pure noise.  Aoshi had no intention of ever letting this painting out of his possession.  Still, one thing bothered him … "How did he know what they looked like?  Not even the best description could account for this degree of accuracy."

"He asked me if I had a picture,"  Misao replied, surprising him even more.  Misao-chan had a picture of Beshimi, Hyottoko, Shikijou, and Hanya?  "But … I never imagined he'd be able to make something like _this_ – they're not even in the positions they were in in my picture!  Isn't he amazing?"

"Yes."  Aoshi studied the picture, memorizing every detail before rolling it back up.  It would be on a wall in his room this night.  He would have to thank TsukoikaTsukoika if he ever saw him again.  "He is."

They were smiling.  Beshimi, Hyottoko, Shikijou, and Hanya were smiling.  At him.

For him.

Misao-chan was smiling too.

Aoshi was too amazed, too grateful, too _happy_ to smile.

But he felt like laughing.

*********************

Yay!  We're finally getting somewhere!  (I know it doesn't seem like it, but trust me, the picture is important – if only symbolically so.)  I'm _not really_ satisfied with this but … it'll do.  I guess.

Lychee2: yes, Aoshi as a big brother is much better for Misao than Aoshi as a lover ever would be.  She will figure this out (*cough*grow up*cough*), eventually.  And yes, she will have two brothers eventually.  It'll take her a little time to cope with that fact, but it will happen.  (And it won't be Katamari, so you can relax.  In fact, pretty much **none** of the Juppongatana (sp? Who cares?  What's in a name – for this one, too many letters!) appear in here.  Well, I don't plan for them to.  What actually happens may be different.  Thanks for making this a fav!


	14. 14

Sagara Sanosuke was not in love with Saitou Hajime.  _In-furiated, perhaps, or _in_- … _in_- … __in-some-word-that-means-"fed-up-with."_

Oh, damnit.  And fuck a flapping freak.  You'd think that a guy who hung around so many goddamn geniuses (Aoshi, Kenshin, even damn-his-funny-eyes Saitou) or just people who were kinda smart (Jou-chan, Kitsune, Katsu) would know more words.

Anyways, the point is that he was not in love with, or in lust with, or even infatuated (Oh!  Big word!  Score one for Sano!) with a certain narrow-eyed, cricket-looking, psychotic cop.  And he was damn sick of the damn kitsune making suggestive comments to that direction whenever he annoyed her (which seemed to happen a lot …), and of Jou-chan and Kenshin making all those oh-so-subtle-hints that they thought so too.  Hell, even _Katsu joined in on the fun whenever he was feeling really annoyed with Sano (which, thankfully, didn't happen anywhere near as often as it did with Megumi – Katsu was a _lot_ more abrasive on a mild day than the Kitsune was, even at full-wrath-mode)._

It … made him … tired.

Not angry, not defensive, not insulted or offended (well, not _entirely_) just … worn out.  And a little annoyed.  Drained – now _there was a good word.  It made Sano feel drained.  Especially when, every now and then, said psycho cop dropped in to bully Kenshin into helping the government with some huge plot and ended up getting the whole dojo involved.  When _that_ happened, they screamed little looks and dropped bricks that might have once been told a story by their mothers about what a hint was.  All of them would, not just Kenshin – who seemed to have taken it on him to become a matchmaker – and the Kitsune – who was just nosy._

Gods, did they really think he was _that dense?  Sano sighed, knowing the answer and wishing he didn't.  Luckily, Saitou himself seemed not ignorant (they were being obvious to __Sano – it must be like they were waving little banners in front of the psycho cop) but uncaring.  Like it really didn't matter to him.  He mocked Sano, and insulted him almost constantly, but he never once touched on __that subject.  For which Sano was willing to allow him, forgive him almost anything._

Except for shoving that sword through his shoulder.  That had fucking _hurt.  And, of course, he'd never tell Saitou that – that Sano would listen "Ahou" every other words for the rest of eternity with a glad heart if it meant that Saitou would never, not once, even skirt on the borders of recognizing __that subject.  The bastard probably already knew, though – he didn't miss much, if anything._

Damn him.

Even that fight he wanted so desperately, that all his friends seemed willing to blow all out of proportion – that fight didn't mean anything.  He didn't want to fight the crazy bastard.  He didn't want to smash his skull in (all the time) or permanently maim him (_temporarily_ maiming now …), and he didn't want the bastard respect, or his pride, or anything like that.  Respect would be nice, but Sano knew it wasn't going to happen anytime soon (e.g. at all).  He wanted … closure.  He wanted to be able to look at the fucking asshole without feeling like something was missing, like he was looking at someone with only one ear or no scar where one should be.  He wanted …

Fuck.

When had he ever known what he wanted when it came to the bastard?  (A lot of times … and never.)

He did know one thing, though, and he held on to that one constant, that one thing that would stay no matter what.  Sagara Sanosuke did not love Saitou Hajime, and Saitou Hajime did not love Sagara Sanosuke.

He knew that.

********************

Hmm.  Now this could be the truth, or it could be pure denial.  We'll see.  And very soon, Misao will find out that Katsu is gay.  And that, my friends, (un)faithful readers, and annoying masochists, is one of the scenes I am writing this entire, fucking huge (trust me, it will be) story just for.  Just so I can have a setting to put that (and a few other) scenes in.

Goddamnit, I'm pathetic, aren't I?  *shrug*  Well, now you know I don't like to do things by halves.  (Not unless they're all like mandatory and shit – then I'm a lazy bitch! ^_^  And maybe I shouldn't act so proud about that …)


	15. 15

Tsukoika Katsuhiro was slightly insane.

He was aware of this (ten years of self-imposed solitude leaves very little chance to be ill-acquainted with one's self, after all) and fairly comfortable with it, actually.  Sometimes, on those cold, cold nights when all you have is nothing, a little insanity does you good.  Keeps you alive.

So yes, he was better now that Sano was back, and no, he was not about to run of and try to blow up the Meji government again.  But, as Katsu figured, this was rock bottom – or sky high, depending on how you look at it.  This was exactly as sane as he was going to get.  Really, that was probably all for the better.

A little insanity keeps you warm – and God, was it cold.

(Yes, it was)

Sometimes, he woke up and he was so cold he could barely breathe, and his heart hurt with every beat it took.  Sometimes, he could feel the ice cracking.

He only wished, then, that the rest world would have the decency to not pretend it was warm.

But, that hadn't been happening very often lately.  Not since Sano started coming around, in fact.  It had started when …

He didn't want to think about when it had started.  That was over, and done with, and it wouldn't happen again.

He wouldn't allow it.

But that was beside the point.  The point was that Katsu was insane, and he knew it.  He'd been insane for the past ten years, and he knew that.  So, whenever Sano asked him if he was alright, and he said yes, then Katsu was lying.

And he knew that.

But it was okay.

*****************

Okay, here's the _real chapter 15.  The other one has been deleted and sent to the very depths of the Hell from whence it came.  There will be no further mention of it, by me or by any reviewers.  As much as I love them, any reviews mentioning _it_ will be deleted, unread and unresponded to._

And that's all I'm going to say.  I'll probably get 16 up later tonight, but it'll be a short one.  Short_-er_, anyways.  Not feeling very talkative right now.  See ya.


	16. 16

Misao was bored.

Bored.

Bored.  Bored.  Bored bored bored boredboredboredboredboredBORED!!!

Really, really bored.  So bored, that any minute now she was going to snap and start singing random drinking songs and then go and sit in a corner for awhile and shiver.

Oh, wait.  She'd already done that.  A few times.

Drat.

Everyone was avoiding her.  They were being so mean – was it her fault she was so bored?  _No.  Hmph.  Stupid bums.  Like she needed them to have fun.  God, it had only been a week since the party, you'd think that – _

That …

That's it!

Misao jumped up from her self-imposed sulk and ran out of her room, grinning like a … a … a very happy person.

Similes weren't exactly her forte.  But parties were!

"Aoshi-sama!"  Misao thought she saw him flinch, but decided her mind was playing tricks on her.  She ran up to her former Okashira and stopped, not even winded.  "I," and here she struck a dramatic pose, "am going to Tokyo!  It's time to visit Himura again!"

He blinked.  "Misao-chan?"

"Yes?" she replied airily, still posing.

"You just saw Himura and his friends.  They were here last week.  You threw a party.  Sagara went out drinking.  Remember?"  He spoke in short sentences, and used very small words - Misao she couldn't for the life of her figure out why.  Maybe he was tired?

"So?  That was a _week ago, Aoshi-sama!  I miss them!  And I'm going to Tokyo, and you can't stop me!"_

Aoshi might have muttered something under his breath, but Misao decided to gracefully ignore it.  'Probably just a trick of the wind, anyways.  "Very well.  I will go with you."

Since this was what she had been not-quite-subtly-angling for, Misao was ecstatic.  She even did a little dance, just to drive the point home.  "Oh, this is going to be so great!  We'll get to see Himura, and Kaoru, and Yahiko-chan, and Sano, and maybe we'll even see Sano's friend again!  I want to thank him for the picture, don't you?"

As a matter of fact he did.  Very much so, but he didn't tell Misao that.  She probably wouldn't have heard him.

"Aoshi-sama!  Let's go, already."

He blinked again.  "Right now?"

"_Yes!"_

"Misao-chan?"

"_What?"_

"We're getting packed before we leave."

"But Aoshi-sama!"

"We're getting packed."  His voice was firm enough to walk across.  With your eyes closed.

Misao sighed, and kicked the ground.  "Phooey."  Then she brighted up.  "But we're leaving right after, right?"

Aoshi sighed, and knew he wouldn't win.  Not against the Sparkling Puppy Eyes Of DoomÔ.  "Yes, yes."

"YAY!!!!  Toyko, here I COME!!!!"  Misao skipped back toward her room, presumably to pack.

Aoshi looked after her and shook his head, and almost smiled.

*****************

Woo!  That much closer to writing the fun scene.  Oh, and I replaced the pathetic piece of shit that tried to pass itself off as chapter 15.  I'm sorry for making you read that … that … _travesty.  Please go back and read the __real chpt. 15, if you haven't already.  It's much better, I promise.  _

(And please don't mention anything about the previous "chapter 15" in your reviews, or I will be forced to delete them.  I won't like it, but I will anyways.  For those of you latecomers, or those who, by some act of God, missed the "first" #15, the acceptable one starts "Tsukoida Katsuhiro was slightly insane."  Reviews on _that one are quite welcome.  ^_^)_


	17. 17

Today was a day for the wind.  It leapt and danced along the ground, through the trees, and around those false rocks the silly humans built to keep the sky out.  Breezes waltzed over the hills, to a place not very well known.  It was not a beautiful place, not a comfortable place, and not a peaceful place but here, at night, one could stand and close his eyes and pretend that he was the only person in the world.  Here, at night, one so disposed could look up, and watch the stars burn.

He was here.

He was always here.

He had stumbled into here a long time ago yesterday, when he was still small.  He was bigger now, much bigger, and the wind expressed regret.  Poor, poor humans, destined to grow large and ugly.  The little ones were always so much happier – maybe that was the difference.  Every now and then, the wind would blow by a human who hadn't grown big and ugly inside, and it smiled.

The wind wondered why it was so … intrigued by this human then – he had been big and ugly inside even when he had been little.

Maybe … the wind thought, maybe it was because this human wasn't really ugly inside.  This one was … the wind didn't know what this one was, but whenever it touched him, the wind felt strange.  It wanted, for some unknown reason, to die down, and leak around the edges like the silly humans sometimes.

A tree was blocking him from the worst of the wind's bite, but it left the little zephyrs free to gnaw and nibble around the edges to their heart's content, and they did.  They touched him, caressing, threading their small fingers through the funny grass that grew out of the top of most humans.  They played with the funny grass like a kitten would with a ball of yarn, leaving it terribly tangled but making it very hard to become angry with them for doing it.

That was another thing that was different about this human.  Most of the silly humans, they pulled their strange furs tighter to them, and tried to push the wind away.  He smiled, and held up a hand for the little zephyrs to play with.  They attacked it with playful abandon, and the larger wind whistled around him, smiling because he was.

The poor lucky wind cannot tell the difference between smiles, and carried away the little water he leaked around the edges without a care.  Someone really should redesign the silly humans, the wind often thought.  They were always so leaky and fragile, and likely to fall apart at only a little push.

It was a pity, the wind thought, but not for long.  The wind is not by nature sad, and today it danced among all the silly, leaky humans, laughing.

*****************

Wow.  I am amazed.  Not only did I have no idea what was going to come out when I sat down and wrote this, but then _this_ comes along and pops out …

Just … just wow.

I really, really like this.  You probably don't know how rare that is for me, so I'm going to tell you.  I like my writing (not just am satisfied with, which happens most of the time, but genuinely _like_) about 2% of the time.  And I love this.

Hehehehehe.

Isn't it wonderful the way these things turn out?

Oh, and a cookie to whoever guesses who "he" is.


	18. 18

So.  The weasel girl was in Tokyo, along with Shinomiri.

He should have expected it, really.  Why he should have expected it, Saitou wasn't so sure, but he knew he should have.

The former Shisengumi sighed and leaned back in his chair, lighting up a cigarette (and, for a moment, the almost unbearably dark room).  Truth be told, he was getting rather bored.  There was nothing interesting going on.  No politicians that were so corrupt he could afford to go after them, no annoying attempts to undermine the government, and no rouge adversaries that would prove detrimental to the government, or to Saitou himself.  It was every good copper's dream – no one was currently committing any crimes large enough that they could not be handled by a rookie with some halfway decent backup.

Saitou Hajime had never referred to himself as a good cop.

This was his Hell.

Every.

Last.

Second.

Saitou sighed in frustration and flicked the ash from his cigarette with rather more force than strictly necessary.  Then he did it again.  And again.  And again.

And once more just for fun (as there was no actual ash left on his cigarette).

Eyes glittered in the dark, brighter than coins and far stronger than the soft yellow metal to which they had often been compared.  A wolf has no quarrel with peace, but it is at it's heart a creature of action.  Boredom can be tolerated only to a point, and indeed, this point had long since been reached.

No, actually, it wasn't quite so simple as that.  This point had not merely been reached, it had been passed, lapped twice, and covered in obscene graffiti and long, thin sheets of paper while boredom dance around it and sang drinking songs.

And now the wolf was getting very, very angry.

Especially since, whenever he really needed one, the damn cigarettes never lasted more than about and hour.

The wolf sighed, rummaged around in his pockets, and, for a moment, lit up the room.

******************

Grrr.  I know I'm getting there, I'm just stuck on _how_ to get there.  Oh the injustice of it all.  Death, Despair, Dementia and Damn Stupid Freshmen.  Hate them all (mostly.  Some of the Freshies are okay.).  Especially hate friends that sorta stopped being friends over the course of the last two years, and the fact that I kinda don't have a best friend anymore.  Life sucks.  I wish I was in band.  Grr.


	19. 19

He couldn't live without her.

He hadn't been able to then, so why would he be able to now?  He would help her, because he loved her.  He _needed her.  And now she needed him – someone like him.  She needed his help.  _

And he would give it.

He'd better.

And then, when he did, she would let him have her again – for a little while.  She;d have to leave him eventually, but there would no harm done in letting him dream a little, would there?

He would help her – she _knew_ it.

Because he couldn't live without her.

**********************

Duh-duh, duh-duh, duhduh duhduh duhduh ….. Enter psycho crazy-ass bitch ex-girlfriend.  Run, Katsu.  Run.

Heheheh.


	20. 20

"HIMURA!!"

*WHUMPH*  *SPLASH*

"Ahh!  Himura!  Look, I'm all wet now!  How am I supposed to walk in the dojo all wet?  And what about Aoshi-sama?  He's here too you know (I don't know _where but he's here).  It wouldn't have been good if you'd gotten him all wet too – he's carrying all our clothes!_

"Well?  Aren't you going to apologize?  Say hello?  'Hi Misao, I missed you too, now come in and make yourself at home?'  (I was going to do that anyways but it'd be polite to _ask_, at least, Himura.)

"Grrrr …  HIMURA!  SAY SOMETHING!"

"O-orrroooo …"

"Sheesh …"

*****************

Heh, no it's not much, I know, but I had a bit of a busy day today.  Plus, did I ever mention that I am extremely lazy?  Well, I am now.  Maybe someday, when I'm a full-time writer, then I'll sit down and write ten pages a day, seven days a week, 365 days a year, but now I have school and homework and cross-country and karate and French club and all that shit to deal with, so it is quite frankly not going to happen.  Besides, I'm not planning on making the switch to a full time writer when I'm consistently making enough money as a writer as I am in my other job (whatever it is) and I have been for a while.  Or when it gets to the point where I'm actually losing money by going to work instead of writing, but _that's certainly a just a __little unlikely.  Like Antarctica is just a wee bit chilly, ya know?_

Anyways, you'll be relieved (or horrified) to know that this is probably as short as these chapters are going to get – I mean, lazy is one thing, but if I can't find the time of day to write a fucking third of a page in pure dialogue, then I've got no fucking right to call myself a writer.  So no one-or-two liners out of _this_ nutcase, anyways.

And um, I kinda swore a blood oath that I'd never, ever, ever do this but … reviews are good, ya know?  They let me know people are reading this piece of shit.  Not that I'd stop writing it anyways but still …

Okay I'm stopping now.  (Not that anyone has actually read this far.)

(Dear God, the author's notes was longer than the story!  Am I pathetic or what?  'Cause I think I'm pretty pathetic.)


	21. 21

A first, the fire merely flickered, a pale imitation of what it could be.  It was hungry, so hungry.  Around it there was so much fuel, a wealth of food … to much.  Surely this could not be all for it?

But it was, and soon the fire outgrew its hesitation.  It leaped upon the waiting food, devouring, consuming, blazing.  The fire danced in glory, and roared, not in anger or warning, but put of the pure joy of existing.

And it was good.

Soon though, too soon, when the fire reached for more food and found none.  Oh well – there was plenty of food to both sides …

But then something hit the fire, something alien and not-hot.  The something hissed and ran away from the fire at first, but more and more kept coming, covering the fire, smothering the fire.  Quenching it.

The fire fought back, with tooth and claw and flaming arm, but it was not enough.  There was too much of the alien thing, and whenever it touched what food was left, it made it nasty, not-food.  The fire had no choice but to relent, however unwillingly.  It shrank, and grew cold, though it left the half-eaten food hot and dangerous to the touch, so they would know that even in defeat, they would not be rid of the fire.

After all, the fire had battle with this alien not-stuff many times before.  It would rise up again, and that time maybe, the not-stuff would be defeated.  The fire was immortal – it could wait.

*****************

Oooo!  Someone's house burned down!  Can you guess who's it is, can ya can ya?

And let me tell you all a little story.  I have that nifty little feature enabled that sends me an email every time I get a review, so usually I have a pretty general idea of how many people reviewed every day when I go to And let me tell you all a little story.  I have that nifty little feature enabled that sends me an email every time I get a review, so usually I have a pretty general idea of how many people reviewed every day when I go to Yahoo.  Well, today I went to the site and was greeted by _you have 27 new messages_.

*enter sounds of person falling off chair*

Now, three of these were daily newsletter-thingies and jokes I get, and one was a thing telling me I'm not allowed to cancel the stupid horoscope thing I also get.  However, 23, no I don't think you heard me **23 of these were from bot@fanfiction.net – review alert!  Anyways, the point of this admittedly boring story is this: I love you Kuroiyousei.  And you too, FarStrider.  Both of you have officially cemented my resolve to finish this fucking piece of shit.  And, Kuroiyousei, because you reviewed **every single chapter**, there is now absolutely no doubt about Sano and Saitou getting together.  I'm not quite sure when that will happen, but it will.  Or else I'll give you my address and my real name and permission to send someone (or yourself) over to my house with a nice shiny gun and blow my fucking brains out.  Sound good?**

By the way, as a dedicated (and anonymous) fan of your work, you might have an idea of what it means to have you review this, bt I'm not sure.  Here's a parallel scenario.  You, a die-hard LotR fan since B.F. (Before Film), have finally worked up the guts to write a fanfiction about it.  While you're writing a couple chapters you thin , wow, wouldn't it be unbelievable if [insert LotR cast member here] read this?  It's not bad, but you don't really think it's anything special – since you haven't gotten a lot of feedback, you assume everyone else thinks that way too.  Then, _wham_ [enter said LotR cast member here] shows up, reads it, and leaves many, many, very good reviews, practically begging you to put a certain scene that you were already 75% sold on in.  THAT IS HOW THIS FEELS.

And, since there is no possible way I can respond to every individual review you left, I'll just hit the most salient point, okay?

Katsu's Name:  I've heard (and read) both Tsukoida, Tsukoika, Katsuhiro, and Katsuhiko.  First name I myself am convinced is Katsuhiro, but I haven't been able to find an official source for the last name (or I haven't looked hard enough).  Direct me to an official translation and I will go back and change the spelling in every chapter he's mention.  Actually, I'm not being facetious, I really would appreciate this.  Anything to make this better,

Wartime connection to Sano/Saitou/Katsu: not really.  It's more like the connection between Sano and Kenshin.  Both Katsu and Sano _saw_ all this, and while they were very little, to people they knew (somewhat).  So that's one thing.  But Kenshin and Saitou actually _committed all this, while perfectly sane and in their right minds, so that's something else.  There's a little connection, but it's not very clear, as Saitou (I think) didn't lose his family in the war (I figure the Sekihoutai was as much a family to Sano as anything), and Sano didn't actually kill anyone._

Chapter 17/ wind kid – I'm just going to assume right of the bat that no one else is going too guess this and answer you right now – it's Katsu.  I'm assuming he moved to Tokyo fairly soon after the betrayal of the Sekihoutai (when he was still little), has been here ever since, and that the betrayal of the Sekhoutai made him grow up a lot, real fast.  Plus, with what I'm doing to the poor kid, I needed to give him a place he could go to cry.  *sniff* *huggles poor Katsu* (yes, it's just an excuse for me to grope him)

And this is to everyone who hasn't caught the general pattern I've got going here (plus, I don't think I've ever said this in so many words): this story is updated once a day.  Usually, on weekdays it's late at night EST, because that's when I have the most time to do stuff like this.  Weekends, the time varies.  The only time this is not true is in the event that I absoulutely, positively could not get out even a third of a page or so in Word.  This isn't going to happen very often at all (say, power goes out, or I am for some other reason deprived of internet access, or maybe someone died – but that's about it), but whenever it does, I will make up the slack by posting the missed chapters on the same day as the supposed-to-be current one.

Okay, I think that's it.  If I didn't answer anything (this is to everyone, by the way) just ask me and I'll be more than happy to explain my reasoning.

… Dear God, that was even longer than the last one … ack!  This is turning into the equivalent of a livejournal!  *hides head in shame*


	22. 22

"… fucking arrogant, conceited, psychopathic fucking _BASTARD!_  Plus, I can' _believe …"_

Katsu and Sano were slowly walking along the streets of Tokyo, supposedly because Katsu didn't get out enough, but most likely because Sano needed someone to bitch to.  After all, there was no way Sano would be able to whine like this to either Kamiya-dono or the little kid … Yahiko, that was his name.  And Sano had already confided in Katsu that whining at Himura left him feeling about three years old, with Himura as a kindly mursemaid.

Katsu thought Sano sounded like a three-year-old when he was whining no matter what, but kept that to himself.  Besides, he did need to get out more, and Sano was bitching about anything Katsu hadn't heard thirty times before.

"… and I don't know if that's _worse …"_

If Katsu had actually been paying any attention to Sano, he probably would have been more than a little annoyed with his friend by now.  He had just spent the last hour fuming over the fact that he had ran into that policeman he hated so much earlier, and showed no signs of slowing down.

_Oh, come **on**, Sano.  Just fuck the man already!_  It was beyond Katsu's comprehension _why Sano couldn't see why he spent so much time obsessing over the cop when it was perfectly obvious to __him.  Or maybe he was just more likely to notice things like these.  Ah, well.  You know the saying – lust is stupid.  And yes, he was aware that that's not the original quote – use what fits, okay?  Sano'd come to eventually._

Probably.

Maybe.

With a little help.

… Make that a lot of help.

And _lots of sake._

Wait … Katsu sniffed once.  They were near his neighborhood now, and he knew exactly how much smoke was normal for here.  What he smelled was to that like Sano's snores were to a kitten purring.

This couldn't be good.

At all.

Katsu broke into a run, hardly even noticing Sano's surprised exclamation.  It was far too soon when he stopped.

The place looked … devastated.  Like the war had come back again, just for these few houses.  And in the center of all the carnage were the gutted ruins of where Katsu's house had once stood.

The blaze was obviously long since under control, and only a few houses to either side of his had been burned, but that didn't register.  Wood smoke and tar irritated his nose, but he took no notice of that except to note, in a very offhand way, that it seemed no one had actually been killed in this fire, or else the air would have been polluted with the sickly sweet smell of burned meat.  Katsu was glad, in a way – that was a scent he had experience far too often as a child, and he didn't need any reminders to something already burned irrevocably into his memory.

Sano came running up behind him, not even panting slightly.

"Hey man, what's your prob-" he cut short whatever he was going to say and starred around with horrified eyes.  Not that Katsu noticed.  "Shit."

It was a very small sound from the normally exuberant Sano, and later Katsu would wonder on that.  Not now.  This was not a time for thinking.

It was funny … he'd spent the last ten years nearly entirely within those four walls, and he'd hated them.  Then Sano had come, and he had not though about them at all, except to occasionally remark that yes, they were about as impermeable as a loosely woven fishnet, and it probably would be a good idea to find some form of insulation within the nest millennia or so.  There was … had been … nothing in that room he would rather have than not.  A single futon, thin and lumpy; one summer blanket and one winter, both threadbare and past their better days.  A few prints salvaged and carefully repaired from gutters, acquired when he was still young enough to care about such things.  One oil lamp, barely used; inks, newspaper clippings; blank paper, a typewriter and a closet full of unmarked maps.

Of all those things, the maps and the typewriter were probably the only things he valued, and the typewriter being the only thing actually moderately difficult to attain.  Idly, he thought that it was a very good thing that this had happened now, and not some time earlier – rather have a closet full of maps catch fire than a closet full of bombs.

So it was established that he didn't care about the place – he called it "home," but only because it was a place to sleep.  So why was he standing here, unthinking and immobile, like he had just lost his best friend?  He should be moving, asking someone if they knew what had caused this and why, searching the ruins to see if he could find anything … he would.  Any second, he would shake out of this atypical stupor and start doing something constructive.

Any moment now.

Just …

One minute …

And then …

And then he'd …

He'd …

Do … something …

In a minute.

Any minute now, for sure.

Sano was saying something, but Katsu didn't hear, no more than he felt it when his friend took his elbow and gently led him away from the smoldering skeleton of the ten worst years of his life.

***************

Katsu's house go bye-bye.  *sniff*  Oh dear, where will he live now, and on such short notice, too?  Any guesses?  'Cause I can think of a few … _convenient ones.  ^_^_

Kuroiyousei: And I'm happy that you're happy that I'm happy …

And your word's good enough for me.  His name's Tsukoika.  And there's no way I would agree so easily if Tsukoika hadn't actually been what I _originally_ thought his name was, until I saw it being spelled/said Tsukoida and thought, "whoops, well maybe that's it then."  Kind ironic now that you think about it.  Eh, well what'cha gonna do?

Is it okay if I reply to your reviews on FF the next time I get a couple'a chapters out?  That one, I tend to update extremely sporadically, where alluva sudden I'll get super-inspired and write about ten pages worth of story in one week, and then go back to being muse-ically impaired.  This one's different … these chapter kinda like … just flow, ya know?  And I honestly don't think I'd be able to get out a semi-decent "chapter" a day if I didn't have (what I think is) a fairly good grasp on each character and what makes him/her tick.  It's not like that in PotC with anyone but Jack.  (But it's still one of my favorite movies!)


	23. 23

"Kenshin!"

Sano's voice was quite clear, even from outside the dojo, causing Kaoru to stop mid-pour and purse her lips in annoyance.  She had finally succeeded in restraining Misao enough so that Kaoru could offer both her and Aoshi-san dinner, and now Sano was showing up too.  Ancestors only knew what the freeloader was doing showing up at this time – it was nowhere near normal dinnertime.

"I'll see what he wants, Kaoru-dono, that I will."  Kenshin stood gracefully and walked to the door, somehow making it so that his exit seemed no slight at all to Misao or Aoshi.  Kaoru sighed once he had left the room.

"I'm terribly sorry, Misao-chan, Aoshi-san.  I didn't know that Sano would interrupt your dinner like this –"

"It is nothing," assured Aoshi before Misao could speak up.  "What are friends for, if not for interrupting at dinnertime?"

"Uh-huh!"  Misao nodded vigorously, bring a smile back onto Kaoru's face.  Sure the small ninja could be tiring after awhile, but most of the time she was just a sweet little girl.  "Besides, Sano's alright, you know, for a lazy bum –"

"Ah, Kaoru-dono?"  Where Sano's voice bludgeoned through the walls, Kenshin's floated around them, without necessarily losing anything in the way of volume.  "We … might need your help for a little bit, that we will."

Well, if _that didn't make them all perk up in attention (though admittedly, with Aoshi it was less of a perk and more of a slow upward motion), then nothing would._

"Kenshin?"  By now both Kaoru and Misao were standing, with Aoshi beginning to make the motions of rising.  "What is …"

She didn't need to finish the question, because right at that point the answer came walking through the door.

***************************

Okay, first Id like to say that I'm terribly sorry for doing this to you all.  I actually didn't _want_ to leave you with this slippery of a cliff-hanger but … it's 11:35 right now and I'd like to at least pay lip service to the schedule.  More tomorrow – I'll have a semi-decent amount of time, so I'll try and make it a long one, 'kay?

FarStrider: thanks VERY MUCH for the review, and actually, no one burned Katsu's house down.  Well, _technically, the lamp did, but that doesn't really count.  (See?  I can too write a story in which something bad happens that isn't actually purposeful!  Booyah! … And no one will understand that unless they happen to be a close personal friend of mine – oh well)_

Kuroyousei: *laughs* Well, I'm sorry, but you're a bit stuck on the update thing.  I'm thinking about changing the official classification to updated "nightly," because it's a rare weekday when I get a chapter up before 9:00 PM EST.  If you give me a couple weeks, then cross-country will be over, and I'll have a lot more time to update **before I have to go to karate (and don't get back until 8)  As for your excessive compliments … desist, foul temptress!  You'll get me into thinking that I'm halfway decent again, and if I'm going to do the whole moody-depressed-high-school-writer-thing, that is completely unacceptable!  (No really, I'm the best – I know it … *snicker*)**

… Someone once said that I had the lowest self-image and the highest self-esteem of anyone they'd ever met.  I kinda like that.

T-S-U-K-I-O-K-A, right?  Grr.  I'll get his name right someday!  (Is it okay in this one?)  this is why I need a beta who knows what they're doing … speaking of which … you really would?  Really, truly, honestly?  No shittin me or anything?  Because that would rock so much I think I'd be able to build a mountain.  Seriously, I _need_ a beta who picks on every little tiny thing – because that is so much kinder than re-reading your story after you posted it and finding all your mistakes yourself.  (now, if you mean to write "play," but you actually write "lay," what do you think that does to the sentence?  NOTHING GOOD)  So … you really would beta for For Freedom?  Please?  Because if you did I think I would just … just … write a whole couple pages of Saitou/Sano one-shot out of pure gratitude.  Just because I would be so happy.

That's kinda my best offer.  Please?


	24. 24

Aoshi was just barely standing when Tsukioka walked through the door.  Walked, not limped, not stumbled, not was-three-quarters-carried-by-Sagara.  The artist walked, quite firmly and steadily, as if nothing in the world was wrong.  You would almost believe that was true, too – until you looked at his face.

It was not the face of a man, it was the face of a clay doll; perfect in detail but lacking in reality.  There was absolutely no expression on his face – Aoshi thought he had probably worn that complete not-expression a time or two in his life.  It didn't make it any easier to see on someone else.

Kaoru and Misao-chan both gasped when he came in, and Misao paled slightly.  Beyond that, no one was given any time to react as Himura and Sagara came in, Himura a silk-smooth bundle of agitation and worry, Sagara a brooding mother-hen.  Himura looked up, a trifle apologetic, and smiled reassuringly at Kaoru.  Aoshi almost did not noticed, as the majority of his attention was fixed on the young artist who looked so empty.  What could have caused this?

"Kaoru-dono?  I believe that Tsukioka-san will need a place to stay for a little while – would it be too much …?"

Kaoru shook her head, not in denial but merely to clear herself of a shocked stupor.  E;sewhere. Outside of his range of vision, Aoshi could sense Misao-chan doing something similar.  "Of course he can stay, Kenshin … and … I don't think the room next to where Misao-chan and Aoshi-san are staying needs much to be ready for sleeping.  There should be a futon in the closet there … I'll go get it ready …"  she made to move, until Aoshi's voice stopped her.

"I'll do it."

"W-what?"  Kaoru wasn't the only one surprised; Himura, Misao-chan, and even Sagara, who had been fussing over his friend to the point of ignoring everyone else in the room turned around to stare at the tall ninja in shock.  If it hadn't been so wildly inappropriate, Aoshi would have smiled at the expressions on their faces.

Tsukioka, of course, showed no sign of noticing anything.

"I will do it," he repeated calmly.  "Let me take Tsukioka-san to his room, and you will both be able to find out what happened from Sagara."

"B-but …" Misao-chan stammered in shock; and everyone else looked like they would like to do something similar.  In any other circumstance, this would have been quite amusing.  Instead, he merely arched an eyebrow, and replied.

"I think I am quite able to set up a futon all by myself, Misao-chan."

She flushed hotly.  He hadn't meant to cause that – the girl did embarrass easily, didn't she?  "Well –"

"That would be very welcome, Aoshi, that it would," Himura interjected smoothly.  "You know where the room is?"

"Of course."

Himura smiled one of those inscrutable smiles of his, and turned to Sagara.  "Very well then.  Sano – what happened?"

Sagara turned his attention to Himura (leaving Aoshi almost flattered at the trust shown with his best friend's well-being), and began to recite what he knew.  Aoshi walked over to Tsukioka, who was looking out a window at absolutely nothing.  He briefly touched the other man's elbow, and murmured "Tsukioka-san?"

The artist turned to face him, only the faintest emotion in his eyes.  Well, that was better than nothing, Aoshi supposed.

"Please follow me, Tsukioka-san."

Perhaps Aoshi shouldn't have been halfway surprised when Tsukioka did - but he was anyways.

**********************

Yay!  We're going-to-be-visibly-going somewhere!  I actually kinda like this one.  I think I'm going to like the next couple of chapters, too.

Yay.

Kuroyousei: Umm … the reason you couldn't get at the chapter last night was probably because it wasn't up.  I didn't really finish writing it until 11:30 or so.  Sorry.  And I don't think I can adequately express my joy that you'll beta FF, so I didn't.  I just wrote a thank-you story.  It's called _Mistake.  (I'm only ¾ of the way happy with it, so please love it.)_


	25. 25

Aoshi walked Tsukioka down the hallway, and thought that there was an extra benefit in that it was he who did so.  Anyone else might have been unnerved by the artist's silence.  They had made it all the way to the room, and Aoshi was in the process of getting the futon out of the closet (with only a very few symptoms of déjà vu) before Tsukioka said anything.

"Thank you."

They were small words, spoken in a small voice, but Aoshi heard them.  He turned his head to look at Tsukioka, who was sitting against the wall, his face turned away from Aoshi and mostly covered by his hair.

"For what?"  Aoshi truly was curious.  He did not see anything he had done that deserved special thanks.

"I …"  Tsukioka's head dropped forward, and Aoshi imagined that if he could see the young artist's face, it would be twisted in a bitter smile.  "I'm not that sure, really."

"Ah."  Aoshi studied Tsukioka intensely, and was only slightly worried by what he saw.  "I see."

They stood (or sat, in Tsukioka's case) like that for a while, in a mildly comfortable silence, before Tsukioka broke it.

"Why are you staring at me?"  he didn't sound angry, only curious, but Aoshi gave a tiny half-smile at the suppressed whine he heard in that voice.

"Because …"  Aoshi walked over to where Tsukioka sat and settled down a few paces from him.  "Because I can almost understand you, but then you do something like you are doing now, and then I have no idea what you are thinking."

"And that's such a problem?"  Aoshi caught a hint of dark humor in the artist's voice, but no doubt anyone else would probably have had to dig for it.  And even then, there was a good chance that they would've hit the water table first.

"When I can understand enough to feel like I should understand it all, but not to the point where I actually can?"  Aoshi shrugged, a motion that did not come naturally to him.  "Yes.  It is."

"Heh."  The laugh was as bitter as it was short, but it was at least a laugh.  "There's a lot to understand, and nowhere near enough.  Not even Sano does – so why should you be irritated that you can't?"

Aoshi could think of quite a few reasons, but settled for one of the least offensive.  "I should think that I am a _bit more astute than Sagara – and a bit more able to sit still for extended times.  Why do you not tell me what there is to understand, and leave it up to me to decide if I can or not?"_

Katsu thought of any number of perfectly good reasons why he would not, and opened his mouth to say at least one of them.  The words lodged in his throat, however, sticking to his craw and slipping back down into his gut, and Katsu said nothing.  He closed his eyes, and thought about Aoshi's offer, and thought about how many other similar offers he had received.  None – or rather, none had seemed sincere, and none had been made by one of _Sano's friends_.

Then he opened his eyes, looked straight into Aoshi's, and told him.  Everything.

****************************

Okay, this is another FYI.  I don't care what it says in every single Aoshi fanfiction I've ever read – the man's eyes are green.  Not blue.  I've checked back on every single episode in the TV show I've ever seen, and his eyes are green.  I'm not sure if this is a coloring thing, like with the switching of Kenshin's gi from red to pink, but I don't really care, either.  The damage has been done.  When I think of Aoshi, I think – the-guy-who-everyone-says-has-"ice-blue"-eyes-but-that-are-actually-a-greenish-looking-color.  I'm not kidding here, I really do.  So, in this fanfic (and every one I write with Aoshi in it), his eyes are green.  I mean no insult, but this is one area in which I don't _care_ about any of your personal opinions, or any official sources you have.  His eyes are green.

Deal with it.

Kuryousei: semi-nice conversation – check. (the next one will have a nicer one)  relationship building – I'm sorry, the check won't fit on my computer screen.  Just take it as a "yes."  ^_^

Lychee2:  Yay!  You're back!  And yes, I always call him Katsu too, but we're going to need a little bit of time before Aoshi starts mentally referring to him like that too.  And which chapters didn't you understand (I have an idea, but let's make sure, shall we?)?  I can see why some of them would be confusing though – this is my "therapy" story, and I tend to write what comes out.  Sometimes my subconscious slips loose and lets out some really weird shit – there isn't even a chapter in this story that comes close to some of the freakiest things I've written, and I think that's a good thing.  Please tell me what confuses you though and I'll try to explain – the purpose of this story is also to have the readers understand it.  And I'm sorry, but we won't get any more than a whiff of citrus until much later on.  I might be persuaded into writing a few more stand-alones, though …

Hmmm … *is attacked by screaming hordes of ideas*


	26. 26

An hour had passed before Tsukioka had finished his tale, and Aoshi had heard absolutely no one come near the room they were in.  Seeing as how some of the worst gossips in Japan were currently residing under this very roof, that was something of a miracle.  He said as much to Tsukioka, and succeeded in coaxing a reluctant chuckle out of him.

"Well, are you regretting it now?"  The artist seemed somewhere between hopeful and resigned, though he did try very hard to cover up both.

Aoshi raised an eyebrow.  "Hardly.  Just digesting.  You _have had some harsh times, and very little lately seems to have balanced that out."_

Again, that self-mocking bark of laughter, and then an almost-petulant scowl as Tsukioka replied.  "I don't even know why I'm so upset about the house – it was terrible house.  It leaked like a sieve, and I might as well have been sleeping in the streets for all the warmth it gave."  He paused then, and when he spoke again he didn't meet Aoshi's eyes.  "And it was … very lonely."

Aoshi nodded, but didn't say anything beyond "Ah."

Again they stayed like that, in silence, until a deliberate noise from outside the room drew their attention to the presence there.  Aoshi stood up, though he already knew who was behind the door.  When he did, Tsukioka flinched.  It was an extremely tiny movement, and very adeptly suppressed, so that no one who was not trained to notice little, little things would miss it.  But Aoshi _was _trained to see the little things, and to him Tsukioka may as well have shouted.

"Misao-chan."  Aoshi had the door halfway open as he said this, and was quite able to see the young girl jump away from the wall.  He pretended not to notice, though – she hadn't arrived soon enough to hear anything, anyways.  "I had almost forgotten that you are sixteen now."

She flinched, much more obviously than Tsukioka had.  She really did hate being reminded of her age.  "And?"

"And it would be most improper for us to sleep in the same room now that you are no longer a little child.  I believe I will stay here with Tsukioka-san."

Misao glowed, until the first and last parts of what he had said caught up with her.  "Wha …?  He, he doesn't mind, does he?"

Aoshi had very carefully put himself at an angle so that he could see both Misao and Tsukioka, so he didn't miss the little jerk the artist had made when Aoshi made his little statement.  Funny how he couldn't tell what Sagara was thinking when his body language screamed loudly enough that a beginner should be able to read him, but he could tell the individual differences in the flinches of Sagara's best friend as easily as reading a shop sign.  The twitch Tsukioka had made just then was not an upset motion – just a startled one.

"Not to y understanding, no."  Aoshi would have smiled at the expression on Misao's face had he not been trying so very hard to keep a straight face.

"Oh.  I'll … um … I'll get your things then … um … it'llonllyakeasecond,waitrightherei'llberightback!"  Misao ran down the hallway, and Aoshi smiled at her retreating back.

He was still smiling when he turned around and saw Tsukioka's expression, and that was just too much.  Aoshi laughed, though he kept it confined to his nose it sounded like a particularly loud exhalation.

"W-why …?"  Tsukioka seemed unable to do anything other than stare at him in amazement, and Aoshi idly thought that if the Aoiya ever went bankrupt, he'd have no trouble finding a job stunning people speechless.

It was kind of fun, actually.

"Because …"  What was wrong with him today?  He couldn't seem to stop wanting to smile.  "Because I'm not that fond of being alone, either."

Aoshi waited until Tsukioka seemed at least able to understand what he was saying before he added, "And I do not believe it is possible for you to snore as loudly as Misao-chan does."

*********************

Well, I like the content of this one, but I'm not too fond of the writing.  Didn't really turnout the way I wanted it too.  Eh, whatever.  It's not so terrible I feel the need to completely scrap it, so I'll just be  content with this and try harder on the next one.  And Aoshi is finally getting a chance to express his sense of humor.

Yay.

Lychee2: I'm kinda that way with reviews myself – it's not that  I don't care, it's just that I have serious, serious problems expressing exactly what I like about a story.  (What I _dislike_ is another matter, but I try not to leave that kind of review).  If I reviewed every story I like on ff.net, 99% would be completely useless.  Now, for chapter 12, the night is Misao, the twilight it Katsu, and the chapter is about Misao asking Katsu to paint the picture for Aoshi.  18, I just gave the wind a personality (no symbolism, just _extreme_ personification), and the man is Katsu, again.  And you're not dense at all – I'm just twisted.  ^_^

Nicky: Thank you very much for the wonderful complements.  I can't take them for crap, but I really do appreciate them.  And ever since the idea crept into my head, I have been _obsessed with Katsu/Aoshi, and completely crushed that I've only ever found __one fic with the pairing in it.  (Blackout Craving by um … um …oh shit, I forgot who wrote it, but you can find it on Kuryousei's site under her "favorites" section)  And even then, it's just a side pairing.  ._

Brittany67: *sings* green green green green!  (I'm glad you're enjoying this!)

Kuroyousei: My personal opinion is that Katsu and Aoshi are actually a lot alike, once you think about it, so why shouldn't they have some form of basic understanding?  (Besides the fact that it _is absolutely adorable, of course)  And I know exactly what you're talking about with the fics that make him a mute.  It's really annoying – Aoshi talks quite  a lot in the  show, when you think about it.  He's usually even got some kind of speech for  every episode he appears in (not _all_ of them, but most)._

SO STOP MAKING HIM INTO A PIECE OF EXTREMLY HOT SCENERY! (To all mute!Aoshi writers out there.  You know who you are …)

And I don't want to sound like a _complete idiot but … what song?_


	27. 27

Misao was a ninja, and ninjas are trained to be able to do a lot of things at one time.  So running and thinking at once should have been no problem.

Should have been.

She rubbed her forehead gingerly, and glared at the wooden doorframe that had viciously attacked her out of nowhere.  Stupid door.  Aoshi-sama's things were right inside the door, so she didn't have to look for them, and Misao was on her way back to the room in no time flat.

Aoshi-sama had noticed she wasn't a little girl anymore!  This was good.  This was better than good.  This deserved Super-Special-Extra-Happy-Oniwaban-Style-Glee(tm)!

And he'd made a friend, too.  Friends were good.  Misao herself had _lots of friends, but as far as she knew, Aoshi-sama didn't have any outside of the Oniwabanshuu.  And Sano's friend seemed nice enough – he'd made that picture, hadn't he?_

…

… 

And she'd just passed the room, hadn't she?

Yes.  Yes she had.

Misao gritted her teeth, and added hallways beneath doors on her list of things to be very angry at.

"Aoshi-sama!  I have your – oof!"

… Doorways were possibly the stupidest ideas anyone had ever come up with.

Ever.

******************

Here we go – next chapter.  I'm in a hurry and don't have time to respond to any reviews, so I'll do them tomorrow. 'kay?  Sorry!


	28. 28

I had no idea he would do that.  And that isn't the nothing it would be to most people.  When I'm in my right mind, I'm a fairly good judge of character.  Not the best, by any means, but I can tell how far most people are willing to go for a complete or almost-complete stranger (namely, myself).

And I would never in a thousand years have guessed that Shinomiri Aoshi would do what he had just done.

I'm not complaining, not really – I appreciate the gesture.  Ironically enough, I've always hated being alone – one of the reasons the past ten years (until recently) have been hell for me.  But I never sought out company, because I've always hated other people more.

And I'm perfectly aware of how mean that sounds.  I don't care.  On average, I can't _stand people – I can't stand their questions, their falsity, their selfishness, their sickening, pathetic _eagerness_ …_

Human beings, with a few exceptions, disgust me.  Beyond those few exceptions, I have seen nothing to change my opinion.

But Shinomiri Aoshi doesn't, and so I appreciate his presence.  I just … can't understand why he would just suddenly decide to transfer sleeping quarters, just to keep a bitter, homeless artist-turned-journalist company.

It's long after dark, and I'm still awake.  I think he is too, but I'm not sure.  I'm looking at him now, flat on my back with my head turned to the side, as if by staring at his prone form I'll be able to understand the mysteries of life.

Fuck what he said about understanding.

I don't have a clue what he's thinking.

**********************

Heeheeheeheeheeeee ….  Poor Katsu.  So confwused. (purposeful misspelling, there).  And just a tad bitter.  Only a _tad_, though.  And let's see … today's Monday … woo-hoo!  Remember what I said about Misao finding out Katsu's gay?  Well, that's going to happen _really soon now.  Like, within the week.  And by that I mean actually __within the week, as in, before the week is over, not the day the week is over._

…

And I can't help it, I _still_ crack up laughing every time I go over that scene in my head.  (And when _I_ laugh at _my own writing, you know you should be afraid.)_

Now, reviews for 26:

Kuroyousei: THANK YOU.  You have no idea how much of a relief your review was – I was completely _terrified_ I'd written him so OOC as to be nigh unrecognizable.  You're right – nothing even remotely citrus-like comes out of this *pouts*.  Darn.

Nicky: Thanks for the review … and actually, I'm finding that this chapter's growing on me.  That's really, really strange, because if I write something and I'm sort of unsatisfied with it, usually by the next time I read it, it completely disgusts me.  *shrug*  Whatever.  And Kuroyousei does rock – it's really funny, because she was one of my absolute favorite writers before I even started writing RK fanfics, and now she's actually _reviewing, and __liking my stories.  I still get kinda giddy whenever I think about that for too long.  Like now.  Heheheh._

God, I'm in so much shock like you wouldn't believe.

And for 27:

Kuroyousei: Aww!  You're leaving?  I'll miss you (and your daily ego-boostings).  And yeah, poor Misao.  She's still kinda got it in her subconscious that Aoshi could still love her _like that_ (sixteen years is hard to get rid of on short notice), even though she doesn't really realize it.  I'm gonna have to break her heart before this is over … which is sad because I like Misao.  But then I'll put it back together again, so I guess it's all good.  I'll do my very best to produce A+-deserving chapters while you're gone, then (even though you've probably already left as I'm writing this).  Hope you like them.


	29. 29

Aoshi woke up to someone else's breathing.  This was an unusual enough circumstance that, for the short while when he was still sleep-fogged and muddled, it threw him off completely.  Then he looked over, saw Tsukioka sleeping no more than a few feet away, curled up on his side like nothing more than an overgrown kitten, and Aoshi remembered.

And that wasn't such a bad thing.

There, in the cool dusk of pre-dawn, with only the deeply slumbering form of the artist for company, Aoshi smiled.  It was a small one, and probably only to be considered a smile by mere technicality.  Philosophers would probably be able to spend an entire century or so amusing themselves by debating whether or not it existed.

In other words, it was his kind of smile.

But, that wasn't really important – despite what Misao thought, he had smiled a few of these almost-smiles in his time.  No, the smile itself wasn't important at all.  Aoshi had no idea why he was smiling.

And that was.

***************************

Fluffy little drabble cause it's too late for anything else.  (and five minutes before midnight still counts as on time, right?)

Nicky: Thanks!  I tend to think like that about humanity sometimes too (especially when I think of certain pieces of shrubbery that happen to be in charge of my nations future) but it's too late to get into a rant, so let's not.  And I rant quite a bit myself, so I've got no problem with other people doing the same.  ^_^


	30. 30

When Katsu woke up, it was to the sound of laughter.  He raised a groggy head from where it was buried in his pillow, trying to wonder where he was (since this obviously wasn't his home) and who the hell was out there laughing with such mirth.  _Especially_ seeing as how he, personally, felt like he had just run the emotional gauntlet.

Then he remembered.

And he really, really wished he hadn't.

Oh _fuck._

Memories pounded into him like thrown rocks, and Katsu sat bolt upright, hugging his knees to his chest so he wouldn't break his ribs.  God … why?  Why was the loss of one miserable, hated house doing this to him?  He pressed his forehead to his knees, taking deep, shuddering breaths and trying with all his strength not to throw up.

Which was much, much harder than it sounded.

Katsu stood up slowly, not really trusting his legs to hold him – but they couldn't do a worse job atanding up than they did sitting down, right?

Right.

Wait, did he say right?

He meant wrong.

Very, very wrong.

He clutched at the doorframe for awhile, breathing heavily, and tried to regain his composure.  When he had reached the point where it felt like he could walk into that scary lady doctor's clinic without breaking a sweat (unless it happened to be a very hot day), Katsu straightened up and walked out of the room.

Ten years as a bitter, brooding, morose young hermit/artist followed by less than a year of being a bitter, brooding, morose young journalist who had to go out and collect all the stories himself probably isn't the best way to spend the majority of your life, but it does teach you some things.  Namely, how to gag that little depressed, crying voice in your head, hog-tie it, and lock it in a darkened cellar where no one can hear the screams.  Again, probably not among the most _ healthy_ skill to have, but very useful.

And they were still laughing.

There was something fundamentally wrong, Katsu felt, with people who laughed a lot.  Past a certain point, the joke wasn't funny.  Those who dragged it on long after the joke had been brutally murdered, mourned, buried, and invitations had been passed out to the joke's wife's remarriage, were really, really annoying.  It had felt like it took him an hour to get this far since waking up.  It had probably only been around ten minutes, but still … what could possibly be so funny?

Katsu navigated the hallways with only a little difficultly, and, by following the laughter, ended up in the dinning room, where everyone was eating breakfast.  At the sight of him, the muffled (be seemed unable to completely stifle) their laughter, and pointedly looked anywhere but at him.  And it was very nearly everyone, too; Himura sat between Kaoru and Misao-chan, who was next to Shinomiri and after him Sano, who bracketed the Myoujin child in between himself and Kaoru.  Katsu took in this, as well as Sano's expression, which was a cross between shamed, mischievous, and smug, and sighed.

"Sano," he asked as he walked over to his friend and settled himself between Sano and Shinomiri.  "Have you been telling stories about me again?"  The former had the decency to look somewhat abashed, but not enough to look in any way repentant, and the latter (the only one who hadn't been laughing) gave him a friendly greeting nod.

"Only a few," Sano teased.  "Like … oh … that time you agreed to paint a geisha's portrait, and she stalked you for weeks."

Katsu groaned, and punched Sano lightly in the arm.  "Dolt.  Why do you have to tell that one to everyone who knows who I am?"

Sano smirked.  "Maybe it's because it's such a good story …"

"Or maybe it's because it didn't end the way you wanted it to."  Katsu snorted.  "I told you she wouldn't sleep with you."  He leaned forward, until he was looking straight at Misao-chan (who seemed to be having the hardest time controlling her laughter).  "Trust me, I can tell you right now that half the things Sano's just said to you are exaggerations, and the other half are sake-dreams – he's _terrible_ at holding his drink."

"Hey!"  Katsu smirked as Sano started up in mock-rage, only to be interrupted by Misao-chan's small, oddly quivering voice.

"Um … Tsukioka-san?  Why don't you tell us what _really_ happened, then?"  She shot a sharp glance at Sano to see his reaction, and wasn't disappointed.

"Oh man …"  Sano slumped back down onto the floor.  "Don't believe him, weasel-girl – he lies like a snake."

"Better than drinking like a woman."

"I do NOT drink like a WOMAN!"

"Suuuure you don't, Sano.  Now, what _actually happened was this …"_

**********************

Erk!  Late (by less than an hour)!  Please don't kill me!  Getting sooo close to the scene I can almost taste it … next one or the one after that, definitely.  Yay!

(I didn't see this 'till after I already got #29 up, sorry!)

Lychee2: Thanks!  And I know what you mean … though it's more running into walls with me rather than doors …

Nicky: No, it didn't.  ^_^  Everyone needs a little sugar in their diet to survive, after all.  And Katsu's just a big fwuffy kitty … it's even in his name!  KAT-suhiro.  See?  (can I justify my opinions or what?)  And by the end of this fic, Aoshi will smile a real, actual smile, and he'll make a couple more snicker/chuckles, and Katsu will be laughing his ass off.

Trust me.  *rubs hands in Scheming Evil Villian Position No. 17(tm)*  hee-hee-hee-hee-heeeeee … 


	31. 31

Saitou Hajime liked to ponder.  He was quite good at it, actually, and it was not uncommon to find upon the old Wolf (none of them were really comfortable with mentally referring to him by a given name, even one as impersonal as Saitou-san) sitting in a darkened room, smoking a cigarette and contemplating for all he was worth.  (Which was, of course, a very large amount.)

The rookie coppers had taken to carefully checking empty rooms for breathing and tiny glowing lights (as would be caused by cigarettes) before entering.

The more senior ones had taken to sending a rookie on any errand that might take them into a darkened room, rather than go themselves.

So really, when the light went out in a certain room and no one had seen the Wolf leave, it was not remarked upon overmuch.  There was a slight shifting away from the room, rather like the five-times-daily turning toward Mecca of the Muslims in reverse, but other than that, nothing much.

This was in all probability a good thing – Saitou was not very pleased with his current choice of musing material, and that did not translate well into dealings with others.

He blew out a long stream of smoke and glared at it as if had done something personally offensive to Saitou.  _Why_ was he in this mess, again?

Oh yes, that's why.

The ahou.

The brash, annoying, impulsive, dimwitted, loyal, hot-tempered, aggravating, foolish, fascinating, loutish, persistent, reckless, attractive _ahou_.

…

….

Oh, _shit._

How did those three extra words make it in there?

Because there was no way in Hell he would ever use them when describing the ahou, not while he was in his right mind.

Tokio would know.

It was tempting, oh _so very tempting to go to the woman who had succeeded in becoming his best friend (even if she had failed rather miserably in becoming the love of his life) and ask her what to make of it.  He had to fight down the urge to run to her house (not _their_ house, how could it be when he spent more far time at the station than he did even in the same _neighborhood_ as the house) and spill out all his troubles into her patient ears like an adolescent boy._

But he knew what she would say, and so he didn't.

That still didn't give him any comfort, though.  Why wouldn't this just make _sense_?

_Some things don't make sense, Sai-sama._

Of course, it also helped that he seemed to have acquired, over the years, a chibi-Tokio that lived in his head, accurate down to the last nuance in tone and that not-really-hated-nickname.

Somewhat.

_Why **not**?_  Satiou barely suppressed a wince.  That sounded petulant – even in his thoughts – and Saitou Hajime didn't _do_ petulant.  Ever.  End.  Of.  Story.

_Because they don't.  Again that implacable tone, that never-ending calm with just the slightest hint of wry humor that never failed to drive a point home._

_Well what **is** it, then?_  Saitou growled at the little apparition he would swear had taken to floating at his ear, just above his shoulder.  _If you can't tell me why, then you can tell me **what**, at least._

_Silly Sai-sama.__  You know what it is._

There was on e of the advantages (or disadvantages) to living with a person for ten years, even if you had probably spent more than half that time out of her company.  Saitou didn't even need to think to see the expression she would be wearing now, should he have actually been talking to Tokio.

It didn't matter though.

She was wrong.

And he didn't care what Tokio said, or would say if he asked her.

It wasn't possible.

At all.

Saitou realized that his cigarette had gone out some time ago.  He growled softly, lit another one, and glared at the darkness until he fell asleep.

*******************

Ugh.  I was sick yesterday, so there was absolutely no way in hell I would have been able to write anything, and I'm still sick today, so there's no way in hell I'm making up the lost chapter until _at least tomorrow.  I'll make it up, no doubt about it, but at least gimmie until I can go a day without wasting to lie down and be violently sick on all those people/things that insist on moving fast/being brightly colored/moving _me_ fast/being loud/in any other way promoting the tossing of cookies._

God, I hate the flu.

April-san: Yes, real life sucks, doesn't it?  Things would be so much better without it.  And I like writing interactions – which is why I write so much of them – so I'm glad you like!  My problem is that (I think) I tend to focus almost completely on the interactions and pretty much write out the background, and the characters who aren't currently doing anything.  *must fix … must fix …*  'Preciate the encouragement!

Nicky: Oh, don't feel bad.  Honestly?  I just made up that bit on the spot – I've never given it a bit of thought until right then, when I'm like – "hey!  He's got 'k-a-t' in his name!  Sweet!"  And that bit was meant to be somewhat funny, so I'm glad it was (for some reason, half the time I _try_ to write funny, it just comes out stupid.)

Kuroyousei: You're back!  *glomps*  Now … lot of stuff to respond to, so, in order of the chapters as you reviewed them:

28: It's not a very nice feeling is it?  I spent my entire 8th grade year like that – with next to no friends and no one I'd really _want to be friends with … *shudder*.  Well, that's long gone and dead, and I'm never going to have to go back (thank God!)  Aoshi is quite the complicated puzzle, isn't he?  And of course, Katsu will solve it – it just might take awhile. ^_^_

29: Indeed.  I figured it would probably be a bit too soon to have Aoshi break out into a mile-wide, 1000-watt smile, accompanied by song-and-dance routine, so I went with this instead.  ;)  And significant fluff is still fluff, right?  Much like hospital food is still – technically – food.  (Oxymoron alert!)

30: Wow … that's um … pretty much it, really.  No, no wait … wait … yeah, that's it.  Hit the nail on the head, there.  And that's … pretty much how Aoshi's going to rationalize it to Katsu later (seeing as how I'm not really sure if Katsu can _be_ "rational" on this subject).  And, obviously the next chapter didn't detail the story, because this is it, and this is obviously _not Katsu's story (somehow, I don't think you're _that_ disappointed, though) but maybe the next one will … or maybe I'll leave it ambiguous and let you decided exactly what happened, sorta like I did with the Katsu-life-story thing (although not really, because I'm going to tell you most of what happened in that, just not right now.)  I'm not really sure.  Think I'm leaning towards ambiguity though – no way I'll be able to come up with something as good as most people reading this have imagined with just the few facts I gave them._

And hey, if you want to start writing your own evening update, that would rock.  I seriously think I would swoon from happiness.  And I'd try to make a point of reviewing every chapter (even though I might not, for, as previously stated, I _suck_ at giving reviews) so … uh … that'd be just _fine_.  (pleasepleasepleaseplease?)


	32. 32

By the time Katsu had finished with the story (the _real_ story), Misao-chan had dissolved into helpless bundle of giggles, as had Kaoru-dono, while Himura and Myoujin-chan were slightly more composed, and even Shinomiri Aoshi seemed to have a certain wry humor shining out from hid eyes.

And best of all, now they were laughing at _Sano_.

Well, fine.  _With Sano._

But only because Sano would laugh at just about any funny story in the world, no matter who ended up being ridiculed.  It wasn't him being cruel, or unkind, just Sano being Sano.

Said roosterhead was currently wiping the tears from his eyes.  "Man, Katsu.  I'd forgotten how funny that really was when it happened."

Katsu raised a wry eyebrow.  "For _you, maybe.  It took me quite awhile to see the humor in it."_

"Yeah, it did, didn't it?"  Sano chuckled slightly.  "I _still_ say it would have been _way_ easier on you if you had just slept with her from the start, man."

Katsu wrinkled his nose.  "Ew.  You know I'd never do that, Sano."

"Why?"  Katsu and Sano both turned to look at Misao-chan, who was blushing hotly.  "I mean … why would you never … you know.  Did you take a vow or something?"

Sano snorted, presumably finding something hilariously funny about the idea of Katsu with a vow of celibacy.

"Not … exactly, no."  Katsu took a sip of the tea that Kaoru-dono had handed him before he began the story to cover his smirk.  Ahh, the innocence of youth.

"Then … what?"  Another rperson might have been insulted, perhaps. But not Katsu.  Besides, it was mildly interesting to see how deeply the girl could blush.

"Ah … would this fall under the 'you'll understand when you're older' category, Katsu?"  Katsu sighed when, at Sano's remark, the girl's blush disappeared completely and was replaced with a twitxhy rage.  Much less amusing to watch.

"No, no it would not, Sano.  And thank you for denying me beyond all doubt any way of ducking out of answering that.  The reason, Misao-chan, that I would never have slept with her is because she is a 'she.'"

She looked nowhere near understanding, though, judging by the look on his face, Shinomiri Aoshi did.  Myoujin had left after he finished the story, and Kaoru-dono and Himura followed him soon after.

Katsu sighed.  "I don't sleep with women."  Maybe the blunt way would work.

She frowned, and assumed a look of total incomprehension..  Maybe it wouldn't.

Judging from his almost choke there, it worked just fine on Aoshi.  Oh.  There was a nasty potential problem.  Katsu hoped the man wouldn't turn out to be one of those types that were disgusted by the mere thought of a man who slept with other men.  He'd begun to take a liking to the tall ninja, and it would be a shame to wreck that over something as small as sexual preference.

"So you _did take a vow!"_

"No."  Katsu wondered if the girl was really that dim, or just innocent.  Probably innocent.  "I sleep with men."

It took awhile for this to digest.  Once it did, however, her expression was nearly worth the wait.

"YOU WHAT?!?!"

Katsu sighed, again.  Or maybe she was just a _tad dim._

**********************

Hmmm.  I still like it, but not as funny as it was in my head.  Well, when is it ever?  Ambiguity is king.  And I really didn't _mean to make Misao sound so stupid (because I don't think she is), it just came put that way.  Don't kill me!_

Kuroyousei: Knew you wouldn't be too disappointed.  ^_^  Tokio rocks – she really, really should have been in the manga.  And I'm not sure I need to say this, but if you _are_ going to do the whole daily-update story, you've got to a) pick a topic you _can write about once a day, every day, for however long, and b) be reasonable in regards to chapter length.  But I 'spect you could already have guessed that._

Nicky: Yeah, Saitou in a bad mood's pretty scary.  *shiver*  And I don't think Saitou would ever agree to marrying a woman he couldn't at least get along with, no matter what.  So, he and Tokio are cool.  Not in love (or else there' be no room for Sano!), but friends.


	33. 33

Tokyo, at last.

The woman stopped in front of a restaurant, footsore and hungry.  She was grimy and obviously tired from a long journey, yet she still managed to look more like a highborn lady than the commoner her clothes proclaimed her to be.

The clothes … they were very, very plain, the brown kimono made out of only the cheapest and coarsest of fabrics.  They itched and strained against a body used to finer materials.  As soon as she was done here, they would _have to go._

Burning would do nicely, as a matter of fact.

It was a shame, really.  It had been so long since she had been here, and now to return, looking like _this_ …

Oh, well.  Necessity is necessity.

Besides, she'd be done soon enough, she'd find him soon enough, and once she found him, he wouldn't be able to resist her.  He'd never been able to before.  Once she had him again, things would be alright, and she could go back to normal.

Oh, how she had missed him …

The woman stopped her increasingly maudlin thoughts, shaking her head to clear it.  This restaurant, this … Akabeko looked clean, at least, and that was more than one could say about half the places in this side of town.

She'd find her beloved later.  Now was the time to replenish the strength she had lost getting here.

***********************

Okay, I _will make up for the missed day someday.  Just not right now.  *is broadsided with a brick of stupid*  Being sick really, really sucks, and I swear to God, if I start _really_ coughing up blood instead of just feeling like I am, something is going to __die._

On the other hand, I have printed out the most _adorable_ picture of Seifer using Zell as a pillow (and another one of Zell holding a Santa hat on Seifer's head, and Seifer looking like he's about to kill Zell, and one of Zell standing back-to-back with Seifer holding a ruler to tell how much height difference there is and Zell looking all *I'm _never _gonna be tall* and Seifer looking all *God, is he ever going to get over this* and … can you tell I'm just slightly enamored of this pairing?  'Cause I wouldn't want to be too obvious. ^_^) to keep me happy, so I guess I'm okay.  Mmmm.  Zeifer.  Or Seiell … but that doesn't look as good.

Anyways, reviews to respond to.

Kuroyousei:  No, Misao doesn't know Aoshi's gay yet, and she won't know right now, but she will find out.  Rather abruptly.  And um … it's not going to be really funny.  That's all I'm going to say.  About your daily-update story, I'm really a huge supporter of that, and there's a link to your livejournal in your profile, right?  ('Cause I'm not really a huge fan of lj's in any other use but for fanfics and stuff like that – reading about other people's lives gets real boring, real fast – and I tend to just skip over that part whenever I check out a profile)  And I agree with you about the whole ff.net thing, but with me it's more really a matter of "where else am I going to go" than any real desire to stay here.  I've pretty much stopped reading any fics except those by authors I know I already like, just 'cause it's so hard to find decent ones here … *sigh* But really, where else am I going to find an archive for PotC, RK, _and FFVIII (of which I do have a few fics, they just aren't published) all on one site?  *sigh* It was so much easier when I only wrote for Baldur's Gate (though, admittedly, those ones, being the first fanfics I had written, ever, kinda suck …)_

Nicky:  Well, I'm glad you think it's funny.  ^_^  Yeah, Misao is really naïve (she's sixteen, it's _allowed_, ferchristsake), isn't she?  And you're also right, she isn't the smartest girl on the show (I personally think that title goes to Megumi, but that's just me).  Oh well.  We still love you, weasel-girl!  Thanks for the review!

You know, I don't think I've made a big deal over it, but I'm still just so amazed, and so grateful to all the people who review this, and any other story I write.  It's a constant surprise when I open my inbox every day and find out that you people haven't gotten tired of me yet … I seriously don't know why you keep being so nice to a cynical little bitch like me.  I love you all!  *glomps*

…

.Or maybe being sick for … what … three days straight now? … is finally taking its toll on me.  Whatever.  I still love you.  'Til tomorrow (night!)!


	34. 34

Yahiko trained.

Every day, he trained.  Tsubame told him that he spent more time training than all the boys in Tokyo put together.  That was fine with him.  They were weak – they'd regret it later, regret that they didn't train as much as that weird dojo kid later, when he was so far above them so as to be almost a different species.

They would only wish they were strong when he actually was.

But not yet.  He wasn't strong yet.

Never mind he was the strongest ten year old in Tokyo, probably in all of Japan.  Never mind he was already stronger than most teenagers.  He wasn't as strong as Kenshin.  As Sano.

Aoshi.

Saitou.

Hiko-sama.

They were all stronger than him.

Every.

Last.

One.

He couldn't call himself strong until he was as strong as them, until he was stronger than them.  And if that never happened, then he would never call himself strong.

Because he wasn't.

He was just a ten year old boy, after all.  He was weak.

He would train, and he would become strong.

He _would._

Only …

Couldn't it come a little _faster?_

********************************

Okay, this is just an FYI.  Over the course of I'm-no-really-sure-but-i-think-it'll-take-a-cpuple-weeks, the chapters here will be definitely leaning more toward the short side rather than not, and probably a lot more of these things (which fit in with the story but don't actually further the plot at all) and some meaningless fluffy fluff.  The reason being, those are very easy to write, and I'm going to be busy re-writing my "main" Baldur's Gate fanfic (also the first fanfic I ever started, and one that I never actually finished) because I kinda abandoned the nice people at _The Attic_ (an absolutely _wonderful_ BG fanfic archive) and they deserve more than the half-finished, amateurish fic I left them with.  I'm no longer addicted to BG, nor will I be writing any more fanfic for it, but these people were completely wonderful to me, as well as a huge reason as to why I a) am still writing fanfiction and b) no longer writing sucky fanfics so … I'm going to give them this, at least.  For awhile there, I felt like I was part of one large, international family of people who just wanted to show how much they loved a certain game, and it was beautiful.  I'll still be giving once-an-evening updates, but try to understand that this is going on the metaphorical middle burner while I attempt to create the best thank-you story I have ever written.  _The Attic_ meant a lot to me while I still visited it regularly, and I completely love and admire the people there and … do I really need to go on?  The only reason I'm telling you all this is because the quality of this story may suffer slighty (though more in that there will be a higher fluff:plot ratio than any actual bad writing) because of this, and I wouldn't want to lose any readers over something like this.

Thank you.

Kuroyousei:  Yes, Katsu should be _terrified by now.  *evil laugh*  She's wearing bad clothes 'cause she's been traveling for a long time, and ***censored: this text has been rated MS: Major Spoilage, and has been deemed not fit to reproduce in print*.  (What, you didn't really think I'd tell you, did you?)  And now I'm going to have to check that lj every other hour to see if you've started the fic yet, so I can get on with the gushing (because I'm sure it'll just rock).  Darn you ;)**_

Lychee2: Wooo … three reviews!  Thanks muchly!  *glomps*  Saitou really is scary, isn't he?  Poor rookie cops.  *is sad* *is not sad anymore* *is hyper*  I know what you mean about Tokio, and just tell me, how the hell is Saitou going to tolerate marrying a bitch or a wuss?  I mean, get _real people!  Sure, he's about as straight as a rainbow (so obviously drooling over Sano in both manga and anime), but still, he's gonna marry someone he at least _likes_ … ah, whatever.  And Misao was being __very naive, wasn't she?  I tend to not read my stories after I post them (and so spare myself from picking out all the flaws and developing a very deep and abiding hatred), but I made and exception with this one, just because I swear to God I could see the look on her face throughout the entire chapter (and then I found all the little typos … d'oh!).  Aoshi x Katsu rox man.  It's just so pretty … *pets* … … *cough*God I'm a freak*cough*  Ah yes, the power of drugs … mmmmm … druuuugggggsssss._

See ya tomorrow!


	35. 35

There was a difference in the air when Kenshin walked back into the dinning room.  Misao looked stunned, Tsukioka-san and Sano looked far too close to giggles for his liking, and even Aoshi-san looked almost amused.

He had gone back in (Kaoru had told him to go back in) after they heard Misao's outburst, wondering what could have caused it.  And now he was met with this.

It made him suspicious.

But no.  Aoshi was here, and he would kill himself before allowing any harm to come to Misao.

Still … it couldn't hurt to ask.

"Sano?  Is everything alright?"

"Fine, Kenshin."  Was it just him, or did Sano have to swallow a chuckle before answering?  "Why?  Anything wrong?"

"No, no it's nothing."  Kenshin frowned at the floor slightly, before shaking his head and turning to leave.  There was laundry to be done, and Kaoru-dono still wanted him to buy some tofu this afternoon …

When Kenshin shut the door, he heard the smallest sound imaginable, so small that even his heightened hearing barely picked it up.  It almost seemed to be a snicker, but Kenshin dismissed that immediately.

It was probably just the wind.

************************

Poor Kenshin's out of the know.  Everyone go "awwwww."  Now, this is what I meant by this fic "suffering" while I focus on my other project – shorter chapters, that do little to forward the plot and yet are still recognizably part of this story.  Not the actual quality of the writing decreasing any (I hope).

(for 33)

Nicky: (sorry I didn't see this 'till after the last chapt. was up) You're not stupid.  I haven't introduced this character yet, though I did write one other chapter about her a little bit back.  I didn't introduce her there either, though, and they're both mean to be something you understand in hindsight rather than when I post them, so it would take a fairly decent leap of faith to assume the two are about the same character.  And … three _weeks?  _In a row?!?!?!_  Man, I pity you when that happened – I've only had this for about five days and I still think sometimes I'd be less miserable if I just killed myself.  *shudder*_

Kuroiyousei: … I've been spelling your name wrong this whole time, haven't I?  Yes.  Yes I have.  *bashes head against wall* _stupid… (Me, not you)  Well, you can tell what's __not my strong suite now, can't you?  Yahiko is a cutie … but he's probably my least favorite main character (out of the Kenshingumi, Oniwabanshuu, and those sort of people), not because I don't like him, but just because I like everyone else so much more.  And just cause it's not going to be my first priority, that doesn't mean I'm going to stop updating so … could be worse, right?  *shrugs*  Thanks for the understanding though – means a lot.  And nope, I've never heard of Quest for Glory, but I'd also be surprised if __anyone here (that is not a rabid or semi-rabid AD&D fan) has heard of Baldur's Gate, so it even out then, huh?  ^_^  You'll find out about the scary lady soon enough, I promise (and then she'll disappear and pop back up again at a __really inconvenient time)._

Nicky (Again!):Yeah, Yahiko's pretty underrated.  I mean, he's not my favorite, but that doesn't mean I don't think the kid is way cool (just not as cool as Saitou, Sano, Aoshi, Katsu … etc.).  … And I actually like doing these semi-character-sketch things.  They're fun.  ^_^


	36. 36

It was going to rain soon.

Aoshi could tell – the air told him.  The smell of it, the feel of it, the taste of it … it was all there, in the wind.  You just needed to be able to understand the air to know.

He was outside, sitting on the front step of the Kamiya dojo.  Misao had wanted to take him shopping in Tokyo – that "next time" he'd promised, but she'd changed her mind when he told her it was going to rain.

It had never once occurred to her that he might not want to go, and that this was a way to get out of it.  Not, he admitted, that he would ever lie to Misao; even if he would, this would be a very bad lie to use – the weather itself would prove his lie eventually.

Still.  It was there – a blind, unthinking faith.  An unshakeable certainty that Aoshi-sama was right.  She hadn't even checked the air herself, hadn't even considered for a moment he might be mistaken.

That was bad.

Very bad.

Oh, he'd never deliberately mislead her, but he was human.  And however intelligent or experienced, humans made mistakes.  Humans could be wrong.

And therein lied the catch, didn't it?

He wasn't sure if Misao had ever gotten to demoting past the "demigod" rank in her mind.

He should probably go in soon.  The overhanging roof gave some shelter, but he'd get wet if he stayed out to long, and the wind was already noticeably stronger.  When humans were wet and cold, they got sick.

But what was he, really?

…

He was Shinomiri Aoshi.

There were some, a very few but some, who knew who they were.  Beyond name, rank, vital statistics, and public appearance, anyways.  There were some who _knew, without a doubt, what that were._

Aoshi almost envied them.  He was not one of those elite.

It was going to rain soon.  If he didn't go in, it would rain on _him, because that was what happened when it rained.  People got wet.  That was the way things worked._

So be it.

Let there be rain.

*****************************

*looks around for crowbar*  *finds crowbar*  *beats ff.net into a tangled heap of circuitry with said crowbar*  *pets crowbar*  *leaves to play FFVIII*

(ff.net was being screwy and wouldn't let me upload this last night, so here it is now)

… The beginning's cool, but I _so did not expect this to end the way it did.  I'm not complaining (this way's better) but … funny the way these things get away from you, eh?  *shrug*  Whatever._

Kuroiyousei:  Clueless!Kenshin = more fun than I should be having.  Hehehehee.  And I did type it in as your URL – that's how I found out I was doing it wrong.  I don't get in anywhere near as much D&D time as I'd like either – none, I repeat _none_ of my friends like it.  One of my friends only stopped mocking me because I do like it when he found out the lead singer of one of her favorite bands (Wheezer) also plays it.  (Which is a stupid reason to change your opinion, I think, but I do appreciate the lack of teasing.)

Lychee2: oh, so you think you're the big man now, huh?  Well, you asked for it!  ***GLOMPS*  hehe… anyways.  I'm pretty sure Yahiko's ten … but what do I know?  Doesn't matter much, anyways.  (Sano is way more deserving of hero-worship than Kenshin … plus, he's more lickable!  Mmmm … *is gatousu-ed by angry Saitou*)  And Kenshin already knows, alright.  He can _smell_ these things!  (Not really, but you gotta admit the guy's pretty observant)**

Nicky: They didn't stop laughing, per se … Kenshin walked in just after Misao's "YOU WHAT?!" from the last chapter, and right here everyone 'xcept Misao is trying _really_ hard not to start laughing like crazy at her expression.  Thanks for the advice – I went to the doctor at about four in the afternoon on Tuesday, actually, and she prescribed some liquid syrup stuff that tastes absolutely disgusting (not as bad as the stuff I had to take when I had pinkeye, though) *shudder*  I know not all medicine tastes terrible, but enough of it does to make me believe what the old wives say.  *attempts to scrape taste off tongue*****


	37. 37

Tomorrow, he would go out and see about finding a new house.  Not now, because it was raining fit to skin a cat, and if there was one thing Katsu hated, it wouldn't be rain, but if there was a choice of about a dozen things he hated, rain would be on that list somewhere.  More specifically, being wet – rain in and of itself didn't really bother him.  Besides, Himura and Kamiya-dono had offered him a room for tonight, and every night after until he found a house, which had been completely unexpected.  And welcome.

Best friend or not, Katsu had not been looking forward to sharing a room with Sano should he fail to find suitable housing before nightfall.  Well, perhaps it would be more accurate to say he had not been looking forward to sharing a room with Sano, but he had not been looking forward to sharing _Sano's room with Sano.  It wasn't in a neighborhood any poorer than Katsu's was – had been – but Sano's neighbors were something Katsu had experienced once, and had no desire to do so again._

Not _everyone could sleep through a riot._

So tomorrow, he would work.

Tonight, though …

Tonight …

Tonight there was rain.  A symphony of rain, pounding, tapping, rapping, splashing all over the roof that was – thankfully – far more water-resistant than his old one.

He was still sharing a room with Shinomiri Aoshi, but the man hadn't come in yet.  Katsu wondered why, in a lazy, offhand sort of way.  It wasn't really his business to question the man's comings and goings anyways.

He'd come in when he was ready to come in.

In the meantime, Katsu lay on his back in the empty room, wavering between sleeping and not, and just enjoying the feeling of pure _solitude_ that only came with a well-built room and no other buildings around for at least a hundred yards.

Tomorrow, he would try and find a house.  Tomorrow.

But tonight, there was only the rain.

******************

Hmmm.  I … don't think I really like this one.  Not all that sure though.  It seems just too … I dunno, too … aw, shit I can't think of the word.  "Lyrical," almost, but that's not what I want to say.  Something else.  *sigh*  Whatever.  (I've been saying that a lot.  Maybe playing so much FFVIII is getting to me?)  Or maybe it's just that I don't like the fact that I sorta repeated a plot device (rain) twice in a row.  Meh.  I'll deal.

Kuroiyousei:  *glows*  Thanks.  I've always seen Misao's hero-worship of Aoshi to be a sort of blind teenage obsession that borders on the unhealthy – it actually reminds me a lot of the relationship my friend has with my other friend's older brother, only a lot more severe.  Kinds freaks me out whenever she starts talking about him (both Misao and my friend).  As for the SxS sex … well, sorry to disappoint, but at this point in their "relationship," having either one of them admit to a "relationship" would be an act of God bordering on *gasp!* Out Of Character-ness!  (I even wrote it out special, just for emphasis, yo.  *nods*)  So no, no rabid bunny sex.  Yet.  I might be able to work in a sufficiently lemony dream sometime soon though … *dangles idea in front of monitor*

Maybe.

Nicky:  I'm glad we agree on the appropriateness.  ^_^  Rain _is generally classified as gloomy weather – though it doesn't have to be.  Hmm.  Damn.  You just gave me an idea for a chapter, but it would be __way far ahead in the plot, when Katsu and Aoshi are actually "together."  Ah well.  I'll write it when I get to it.  Or I'll write it now and stick it in when I get to it …_


	38. 38

Wings.

Big and white and soft and fluffy.  Everywhere.  White feathers, floating down, falling turning tumbling spinning down all around.

So pretty.

Feathers.

White like sin, so soft and gentle.  Caressing comforting soothing freezing and falling, always falling falling falling down.  Everywhere.  Couldn't see for all the feathers.

They were cold.

Snow.

Smaller than the feathers, it was the feathers, so cold and soft and white.  Gently – gently!  Falling down, tumbling 'round, without a sound.  They froze.  Froze until they burned.

So many.

Ash.

Drifting down, pale little specks.  Still warm and burning and smelling like spices and smoke and death.  Little faery wings brushing beating _falling.  Everywhere.  In the eyes in the nose in the mouth in the ears in the skin.  In the blood.  Smothering choking stroking killing._

They're going to kill me.

Fire.

Burning crackling laughing dancing _fire.  It screamed.  It was everywhere.  No escape.  No salvation.  Only fire, burning twirling writhing prancing on flickering wings and burning feathers._

No hope.

Feathers.

Big and bright and burning.  Tarry smoke, smell that smell, that sweet sweet smell.  Dying.  Everyone is screaming and all the children are crying and no one no one no one cares.  Flying everywhere, burning wings.  Feathers falling burning starving slaying.

They won't stop burning.

Wings.

Cracking breaking snapping falling.  Feathers tumbling down down down all the way to the ground.  Stained.  Bones.  Snapped twigs, shiny white twigs, hollow inside after the marrow's all gone.  Taken out.  Sucked out.  Delicious.  Ligaments.  Tendons.  Sinew.  Snipped like threads, snapping and flopping like little limp noodles.  Shiny and pink and glistening.  Or are they white?  No, pink.  Useless pink noodles.  Tasty pink noodles.  Pink is almost red.  Red like blood.

So much.

Blood.

Staining fouling tarnishing spreading flowing rushing like water.  Water never smelled like this felt like this tasted like this.  Exquisite.  Lap it up drink it up never to be filled.  Can't get enough, never never never enough.  Trickles flow to brooks flow to streams flow to rivers flow to bigger rivers flow to lakes to oceans.  Drown the world and it is still not enough.  Drink and listen to them crying.

They're always crying.

Screaming.

Shouting calling yelling pleading crying.  Listen to them.  They won't stop screaming.  A concert of screams, never ceasing always playing.  Scream your songs.  Sing your screams.  Sweetly scream, scream me to sleep.

So pretty.

**************

*blinks*  Well.  _That_ was weird.  And, disturbingly enough, not half so graphic as I was going to make it.

…

I think I should be scared by that.  Just … just a little, yeah.

Kuroiyousei: (for 37)  High school's pretty scary, yeah (or, depressing, when you realize that I haven't had a best friend since I started), but it's got nothing on Jr. High.  That was just … *shudders* … indescribable.  And, oddly enough, I might be able to make a dream that is at least slightly citrus-flavored actually _fit sometime soon (i.e., within the next month – so, not soon at all, really.  .).  Might.  So please don't quote me on that.  *pets pretty little o's*  So cute.  *beams*_

To whoever reviewed ch. 5, thanks!  I mean, a name would have been cool, so I could like, you know, have a general idea of who I'm thanking, but whatever.  Oh, I know!  Henceforth, I will call you Five Little Dots, even though it is extremely unlikely that you will ever review again.  Thank you Five Little Dots, for removing any need for me to wallow in my own ignorance.  Should I write a chapter with the word Bakumatsu in it (highly likely, though maybe not anytime soon), I will be sure to credit you.  *hugs*

(for damn little A/N, which has now been removed and replaced with actual content, as I promised.)

Kuroiyousei:  *reads comment*  *checks author statistics*  *re-reads*  *re-checks*  S-s-s-s-sixty nine?!  *squeaks*  I actually have over **sixty-nine reviews for this thing?  Wow.  *swoons*  no, no don't be sorry at all – I'm not _quite_ hentai enough that I place any significance on a certain number of reviews … though I might have to do something special for _chapter 69 …  hmmm.  *has bad thoughts*  And I really love the story so far!  All you out there – go to Kuroiyousei's lj and read the nice little story!  Read it … *shakes fist*  ^_^  *stage whisper*  I think I'm a little crazy, ya know?  Don't tell! *winks*_**

Lychee2:  oh, the surgery wasn't for anything connected to my flu – and it was _incredibly_ minor, so don't worry.  I have all of three stitches in my lip to show from it, and the worst part was that a) it was boring, and b) they were kinda holding my lip funny for it, and that was a little irritating.  I went right home, and was fine.  Until I woke up about six hours later and found out that the meds wore off, and then I was all "oh God, the pain!  Why?  WHY?!?!?"  And then I took more meds, and was all "Wooaaah, man.  It's … it's like, like stuff, ya know?  Just like stuff, but without the thingies."  And you know what?  I'm actually feeling better now!  *dances*  *reads rest of comment*  Umm, yeah.  Nah, it's cool, man.  No pressure.  At all.  Right.  *sweatdrops*  pressurepressurepressurePRESSURE!  *head explodes*

Nicky:  I'm glad you like it, because the whole thing is making me very twitchy, to say the least.  But I'll leave it alone, so I guess it can't be too bad.  Thanks for the well-wishes – I'm doing _much better now, though I did have a slight relapse this afternoon, where I felt like my head was going to explode if I moved at all (or if I stayed still for that matter).  And even if you guys __can wait (that I do not doubt), I still feel guilty every time I miss a day, for whatever reason.  ^_^  Just a little thing of mine – when __I say I'm going to do something – not when someone tells me to do something, or when someone else says I'm going to do something do something – and then, for whatever reason, I can't/don't, it just gets me so pissed off like nothing else._


	39. 39

Katsu woke from the nightmare, but not in the normal way.  He didn't bolt upright, didn't scream, didn't break out into a cold sweat.  A normal person would have been hard pressed to tell if he was even awake at all.  But his eyes shined out in the dark with all the horror he would never express in any other way.

Eventually, he did sit up, though slowly and deliberately, careful not to wake Shinomiri Aoshi, who must have came in after Katsu already fell asleep.

He hadn't had a dream like that in … how long?  Forever, it seemed.  Forever – or about three years.  There was probably a reason for that, but Katsu preferred to avoid thinking about that whenever possible.  He'd gotten quite good at it actually – hadn't hid mother always said practice made perfect?  His mother had said a lot of things, hadn't she?

No.  that wasn't something he liked to think about either.

For Katsu, his life began with Sagara-taichou.  Nothing before or after that mattered – well, not until Sano.  Sano had made him remember what it was like to care.  Not to care about anything specifically, just caring in general.  Caring whether or not the food was good and not just edible, whether or not he was truly wretched or just mildly uncomfortable.  Caring whether or not he would – could? – get up in the morning, something that had been increasingly difficult for Katsu in the years before Sano came, again, for reasons he rather not think on overmuch.

Sometimes he still felt as if he couldn't decide to be grateful to Sano for that or not.

But he was getting sidetracked. The dream.  It hadn't frightened him, not at all.  If anything, it had … comforted him.  And _that terrified him.  Even now, when he thought back to the dream, rapidly losing details and clarity now that he was awake, it didn't disturb him at all – though he could easily see where it would upset someone else._

What had it been about again?

Katsu frowned, trying to grasp at the images that he could have sworn were burned in his brain a few moments ago.  There had been … wings … and feathers and … snow … other things, too.  What was so disturbing about that again?

Katsu snorted softly, and shook his head, muttering softly.  "Fucking crazy, Katsu, that's what you are.  Stark, raving insane."  He sighed, made one last attempt to remember what had worried him so much about that dream, and lay back down to go to sleep.

In the morning, he couldn't even remember he had woken up, much less dreamed anything at all.

*********************

And here's today's chapter, posted not more than a few hours after "yesterday's."  heheh.  I had planned on catching up on … that … one day I missed (can't remember when it was – know I'm missing one, though) today to, but ended up not.  Oh, well.  There's always tomorrow.

And you know what they say – tomorrow never comes!

One more thing.  It has recently come to my attention that, aside from a few vague hints, this thing has developed nothing whatsoever in the way of a plot.  I didn't really mean to take this long with the exposition and all, but that's just the way it worked out.  What'cha'gonna do?  (shit nothing, that's what!)  I promise, plot will develop sometime in the near future, but also a) when it does, it will be a slow-moving plot (I try, but there's only so much you can do with a page a day, ya know?) and b) it will probably resemble the actual manga/anime in that there will not be one unifying story arc that lasts the entire story, but a lot (or only a couple) of comparatively smaller arcs all bound by the same generalities.  

If that's a huge disappointment to a lot of you, I give you this challenge: you write a story that is updated in some form every day, for an as-yet-unknown-but-considerable-amount-of-time and you see how long you can go with just one plot before you want to kill yourself.  Trust me, you _will end up writing side arcs and little not-really-one-shots that fit into the general storyline, or else you will commit bloody, messy suicide.  And you won't leave a note.  (I know because I actually _tried_ to write out one solid plot for this – on paper, it is not published online and never will be – and you wanna know how long it lasted before I just couldn't force myself to write anymore?  A week.  Not even a calendar week, mind you, but a work-week, Monday to Friday.  And that _killed_.)_


	40. 40

As a ninja, Aoshi had highly developed senses out of pure necessity, and maybe some natural help.  There was very little he was left unaware of.  Certiantly nothing that happened in the very same room he was in, no matter his current state.

Besides, fear has a very distinctive scent.

And that was what he woke to.  Fear.  Not blinding, mind-numbing fear, nothing so obvious as that, but a subtler kind.

Aoshi's eyes were open but his back was turned, so he never saw Tsukioka wake, never saw him sit up, hugging his knees to his chest, never saw the almost-unnoticeable quivers that wracked his shoulders, never saw him lie back down to sleep.  That was not such a big problem, though.  He heard everything just fine.

Especially those last words, dripping with bitterness and so frankly _believed_ that it made him go cold.

Well … cold_er._

So it was that Aoshi stayed awake long after Katsu had drifted back of into sleep and blissful oblivion, wondering on the artist's last words.  Artist …

That was right, he had yet to thank the man for that picture, hadn't he? He'd do it tomorrow, when they were alone.

Aoshi wasn't eager to do something as intimate as giving thanks (well, to him it was intimate – though he knew it wasn't so for others) where a crowd of oh-so-helpful onlookers could watch and shout out friendly pointers on the way.

He wondered what it was that had made Tsukioka so scared.  The other man probably hadn't even known he had awoken.

He fell asleep before he found the answer to the first – or the answer as to why he felt so uncomfortable with the second.

******************************

We really are going to be getting somewhere soon, I promise.  And then all mention of plot will disappear until it comes back up again.  It's late and I really don't have that much to say.  Except that I am thinking of both a) going back and giving all of these little chapter titles, just for fun, and b) starting up a fictionpress.net account.  But not very hard on either of them.  B, I will figure out myself, but tell me what you think about A – it wouldn't really be that hard, not for these chapters (overall _story_, yes – I came up with "Precious Moments" in about ten seconds, and I still hate it, but I don't have anything better – unless none of you would mind reading "My RK Fic, Which I Update Once Every Night, Except When I Don't," which is seriously how I mentally refer to this thing .

Kuroiyousei:  Unrelated thing, my computer hasn't been letting me get at your site for Angelssince the day after it started, so I've read exactly two chapters, and it's driving me crazy.  crazy–er.  I put up chapter 39 at about six/seven o'clock, I think.  I'm glad you liked the dream – every once in a while I like writing like that, and it's a nice relief to know that other people enjoy it when I do. ^_^  Means I have an excuse to do it more often.  

And this gave me a little bit of a shudder – not because of the actual content, but because the whole time I was writing it, I could just see someone saying this, and not Katsu.  There's this little, little girl, with completely unclassifiable features that are described only as "cute," about six or seven years old, just saying all of this with this really big, dreamy smile on her face.  She's playing with something too, outside of your line of vision, but you don't really feel like looking too closely at what it is.  *shiver*  It freaked me out for a bit there.  Really, really bad.

(for 40) Does this answer your question?  Yes, it was Saitou who said that, waaay back in chpt. 8 or something.  I'm really glad you like the way I write Katsu – I've always felt that, while I love him, it's really hard to get a grip on his actual personality, since he is featured/talked about so rarely.  In fact … I don't think there is a single episode in which Katsu doesn't appear that he is even mentioned.  This is what I think is the most probable personality for him, based on what little the series gives us, but I know everyone thinks differently.  Certainly I've never seen anyone else write "my" Katsu – and I've made it a point to read just about every Katsu fic I can get my grubby little paws on.  For a general idea of how much plot to expect, just look at the manga/anime.  They're obviously related, in the same series, and they do _have_ plot but (excepting special cases) that plot never really makes it past one or two episodes, occasionally to resurface sometime later on.  That's pretty much how I'm going to go.  I trust, from your reaction, that I won't be a problem.  ^_^

Nicky:  Yeah … 39 was kinda cool, wasn't it?  (Hey!  I actually complimented one of my own writings!  Look at the pretty blue moon!)  And I never said I was going to commit suicide – just that I would want to if I followed the same ongoing storyline day after day for an undetermined amount of days.  You have no reason to fear.  ^_^


	41. 41

Tomorrow had come.  Misao had dragged Aoshi, Kaoru, and Kenshin on a shopping trip.  Yahiko was over helping at the Akabeko.  Katsu was out house-hunting.

And good old Sano was left behind to guard the dojo.  All alone.

Like a fucking _dog!_

He wasn't scared.  He wasn't thinking of the _last time they had asked him to watch the dojo, and some crazy-ass cricket-man had come and stabbed a sword through his shoulder.  He wasn't thinking about said cricket-man already being in Tokyo, and probably aware of not only the fact that they had left Sano all alone, but maybe even that Sano was wearing a blue bandage around his forearm rather than a red one (bugs had gotten to the red one), and that he had had a particularly bad time with his shoulder this morning._

Farthest thing from his mind.

He winced, and absently rubbed said shoulder – the left one, the one damn-his-eyes Saitou had been so enthusiastic about skewering.  It was an odd thing, that shoulder – and an annoying thing.  It didn't hurt whenever he thought about the cop (wouldn't _that be terrible), not whenever he __saw the cop, and not whenever he had been thinking particularly hard about him, but purely randomly.  It didn't even react to the weather all the time._

Sano hated it, because it was so random.  He could be having a perfectly fine day, and then alluva sudden, _BANG, and there he goes remembering that crazy bastard 'cause his arm's all numb now and his lungs want to explode with remembered adrenaline._

It sucked.  To say the least.

Sano glared at a pebble, and kicked it viciously, wishing it was at least something that could make a sound of pain.

Like a kitten.  Or a newborn baby.  Or a fucking crazy, arrogant, unbearable, fucking-ass-yellow-eyed cricket cop!

But all he managed to do was stub his toe.  The rock didn't even hit the ground with a satisfying crunch – just this sad little _pilck.  He glared at it for awhile, and turned away when the offending piece of landscape was suitably chastised._

Fuck it.

He needed a nap.

Sano turned around and stalked toward the door, intent on getting just that.  Fuck all them out having fun.  If they wanted a watchdog they should have goddamn well gotten one.

*************************

Mmph.  Filler chapter done in about half an hour.  Hope it doesn't show.  Extremely tired and still having much geometry homework to do, preferably before midnight so I can get at least even hours of sleep.  Doing another one of those "I'll respond to reviews tomorrow" things, because if I tried now I'd just make an ass of myself.  Goodnight.


	42. 42

Damnit.  Katsu had been looking around all day, and he hadn't even _seen_ anyone selling a house.  _Heard of them, yes: "Try old Hiroko-san down the way" or "I heard Miru-san was selling last week," or even "Not around here, but maybe across the city."_

"Cakes tomorrow and cakes yesterday, but never cakes today."

Katsu sighed, and glared down a street dog that had been eyeing him in a way he didn't like.  Could this day _get any worse?_

"_Katsu!"_

Yes.  Yes it could.

He wouldn't have thought that someone's voice could make your body react like that: make your heart stop and your stomach churn and your blood freeze.  Katsu had to suppress the urge to be rather violently sick, and decided to pretend he hadn't heard.

Maybe she'd get the hint.

She didn't.

A slim hand on his shoulder stopped him quicker than any leash ever could, and he turned around slowly, as if every fraction of a degree cost him in blood.

It might as well have been so.

Only when he was fully turned and looking at the one face he had prayed every day he would never have to see again did Katsu speak.

"Tamisu."

Tamisu Kijou: beautiful, intelligent, witty, passionate, domineering, possessive, psychotic _bitch.  While she wasn't the reason he slept with men (he'd done that before he even met her), she _was_ the reason he __only slept with men._

She giggled, and he fantasized about slapping her – or he would have, if he hadn't been busy looking for _any escape route he could find.  "Oh, come now, Katsu!  You act like there was nothing between us!  Aren't you glad to see me?"_

Only she.  Only she could even _think he'd be happy to see her after … after what she did to him._

"No," he managed to grind out, feeling like he'd either chip a tooth or pass out from fright if he spent much longer around her.  "No, I'm not happy to see you, Tamisu.  And perhaps you have forgotten, but there _was_ nothing between us – remember?  Or do you forget your very own words?"

Again that hideous, calculated laugh.  "Oh, Katsu, don't tell me you're still upset about _that_!  Why, that was almost three years ago!  And besides, you know how people … exaggerate when they are distressed."  She looked up at him from lowered eyelashes, and spoke in a low, smoky voice.  "I missed you, Katsu."  She would have moved closer to him, but an outstretched arm blocked her path.

"I haven't missed you.  Go away, Tamisu – I told you three years ago and I have not changed my mind.  I don't want to see you.  Ever again.  Now leave."  He shoved – not hard enough to cause her any injury, but just enough to put a much-needed few inches between them. 

Her mouth opened and closed for a moment before she angrily snapped at him.  "Wh-what do you mean by this, Katsu?  What are you thinking?"

"My own thoughts, Tamisu – finally.  And I mean exactly what I said.  Go away, and do not plague me with your presence ever again."  Katsu knew he was being cruel – in his words, his body language, and his expression.

He didn't care.

They stood like that for awhile, in the middle of a busy Tokyo street, with her gaping in mute astonishment and disbelief and him drawn up to his full height, every nerve screaming with tension.  People parted around them and closed back up again, not even noticing as they avoided the feuding couple.  They might have been painted scenery for all Katsu or Kijou noticed.

"But, I-I love you, Katsu."  She stepped forward, one hand outstretched, and Katsu recoiled in disgust – or fear.

"I don't care."  He turned his back on her, and had taken five steps away from her before she reacted.

"Katsu!"  Pleading, desperation now.

"Kat_su!"  Sharper, more frantic._

_"Katsu!"  Angry, demanding._

He kept walking.

"Tsukioka Katsuhiro!  Where so you think you're going?!"

No response.  She ran a few steps to keep in hearing distance.

"Katsu!  You're not leaving me, Katsu!  You can't!"

Nothing.

"You _can't!  You can't live without me, Katsu!  Remember?  You _can't!_  You won't!  I won't let you leave me!"_

Still, he said nothing, and kept walking.

"_Katsu!"_

He didn't look back.

*******************************

Eh, this is yesterday's – I would have gotten it up on time, but there was this little matter of me being passed out in my bed when I should have been writing.  .  On the other hand, I got the best, longest night of sleep I've had on a weekday since summer ended, and earlier in the day I had to resort to buying a Coke (which I absolutely _hate) so I could get some caffeine and __not pass out, but still …_

Whatever.  Consider this the start of the actual plot, and, should you be so inclined, the beginning of the actual story itself.  Now, I know exactly or almost so what will go in every chapter, so hey, maybe I'll even get in more chapters earlier in the day.  Or not.

(for 40)Kuroiyousei: Aoshi's pretty crazy, yeah, but it's not going to be as pronounced for two reasons: 1) I won't be writing from his POV as much and 2) he's had a _lot more help than Katsu ever got.  As for the title … it barely even deserves "working title," and I will replace it as soon as I think of a better one.  Suggestions welcome (hint hint, nudge nudge).  Fictionpress: I'm only thinking because I have some (one especially) mainstream fics (but none finished) that I know I'll never consider even _trying_ to publish, but I would like feedback on it.  I hate fictionpress even _more_ than I hate ff.net, actually, because their archive system is __so unwieldy and it's almost impossible to find good fics.  Still thinking on that, though.  I'm glad you like my Katsu!  (And I know what you mean, so don't worry.  ^_^)_

(for 41)Kuroyousei:  Actually, I still haven't decided whether I'm going to make Sano's dream a raunchy one or a sweet one.  Well, whichever I do, I'll do the other sometime later.  Sano's shoulder just hurts randomly, I'm afraid, no mystic connection or anything.  Just that everything Saitou does to Sano _has to be aggravating.  (Can you say, "repressed sexual tension"?  Goooood.)_

Anaii: Thank you for the review!  *hugs*  And, just out of curiosity … what are the other 9?  (I like to know these things.)

Nicky:  Oh yes you do.  Repressed longing, but longing all the same.  And Sano actually thinks he _doesn't want Saitou to show up.  *scoffs*  Well, we know better, don't we?  ^_~_


	43. 43

Katsu wasn't back yet.

When Kenshin, Kaoru, Misao, and Aoshi had come back and Katsu hadn't, Sano wasn't too worried.  Katsu had never really said when he would be coming back, and it was still early yet.

And so he'd spent the time being showered with amusing (?) stories about all the things Misao and Kaoru had seen/heard of/wanted to get while shopping, the base message being that Aoshi and Kenshin were both far too stingy with the money and not understanding about what was really "necessary," and that overall both of them should have been grateful that they (Misao and Kaoru) didn't buy more.

Then later, when Yahiko came home after the Akabeko closed, he was a little worried, but not so much so, because he was sure to come any minute.

But he didn't.

And it was late now, and almost too dark to see.

And Katsu wasn't back.

Sano was sitting out on the porch, not really oblivious to Kenshin and Jou-chan's worried looks but uncaring of them.  Where was he?  Katsu wasn't a fighter, he couldn't defend himself if a whole group of people attaked him, or if anyone who was really good, and not necessarily "really" good as in "as good as Kenshin" good, but as in "not bad" good, which was _very_ bad, well, bad for Katsu, not bad for whoever, because obviously he wouldn't be much of a challenge, unless he had some of his bombs on him, but Sano had made him stop making those awhile ago, hadn't he, and then Katsu'd gone and buried all the ones he _did_ have, and maybe he remembered where he buried them, but even if he did, it wouldn't do him any good if he got attacked on the streets, because he'd need them _then, 'cause you couldn't really go to a person and say "hey, I know you're kinda busy, you know, with beating the shit out of me and all, but could you wait a minute while I run out to the hills outside of town and go dig up my super-duper-totally-awesome-and-did-I-mention-huge-secret-hidden-cache-of-bombs?  You would?  Oh great, now, stay _right there_ …"_

No.  that wouldn't really work very well.

At all.

Sano turned at a noise next to him, and saw Aoshi settling down next to him.  Aoshi?  What was up with that?  The guy barely knew Katsu … well, they were sleeping together – not sleeping _sleeping_ together, his mind clarified hastily, but like sleeping in the same room, and they had spent some time talking today before Katsu went off, hadn't they, and …

"I'm supposed to keep you from doing anything stupid."  One sentence, and then the ex-Okashira turned his attention to the darkened road that led to the dojo.

It wasn't the longest sentence he'd ever heard the man say, but it was a lot, especially considering that Aoshi was the one who started it, even though that in and of itself wasn't _so unusual, Sano guessed, but it was pretty close, or maybe it was just that Aoshi radiated that aura that said he __should be a mute, but he actually really wasn't and it always surprised him a little whenever he talked, he being Aoshi, that is …_

SHUT UP, SANO!!!!!!!

No one actually said that, but apparently Sano's subconscious was getting as tired of listening to him babble as he was, except it was kind of silly to say that he was as tired of listening to himself as he was and …

Right.

Sano sighed, and sat back to watching the road again.  It sure was dark by now.

And Katsu still wasn't back.

**************************

Man, Sano rambles on when he's worried.  Hope I didn't overdo that.  And hey!  I'm getting caught up – just one behind now, from that one Sunday or whatever.  It's weird, 'cause these past two chapters have been really easy to write, and yet they're two of the longer chapters – I think the one before this (42) might even be the longest … … …. Oh, damnit!  I didn't do anything special for #42!  God, what sick, sick kind of person am I?  *bangs head against wall*

Anyways.

**FarStrider****: No, it's really not.  ^_^  But he doesn't know that and, to be completely fair, she deserves it.  And don't worry 'bout it – you've reviewed like, three times, I think, and ii automatically assume that anyone who reviews once (unless it's a flame – but I haven't really gotten any of those.  Maybe the huge warning in the beginning actually did something!  *gasp*) will stay with the story for the whole time, 'cause anyone who cares enough to leave a review will probably be able to put up with me for as long as this lasts.**

**Kuroiyousei: Oh trust me, she's pretty _damn horrible.  And annoying.  (So you were right on that.)  But horrible too.  You'll find out more about her as this goes on, trust me.  (To "waiting" comment)  *gulp*  Are you __trying to make me feel guilty?  I think you are.  Because if I feel guilty, then I always write more, in a pathetic attempt to assuage that guilt.  And you like what I write (for reasons unknown to me), so you _want_ me to write more.  And I CAN SEE YOUR MIND!  *rocks back and forth in corner*_**


	44. 44

Katsu walked calmly away from Kijou, not speeding up or slowing down, just walking steadily on a path that would – eventually – lead out of the city.

Only when it did that, did he run.

Across fields and gardens, through streams and puddles – he ran without any thought but one:  _get away_.

Finally, he reached his sanctuary.

It was not a particularly special or secret place, but it was _his_ place, and Katsu had gone to great lengths to keep it so.  Ever since he has stumbled onto this place as a child, he had been protecting it – not by hiding it, but by making it unattractive.  There was beautiful countryside around here – no one in their right mind would choose Katsu's place over anywhere else.

Which was just fine with him – Katsu could deal with discomfort.  It was the solitude he needed, though a casual observer would no doubt say he got quite enough of it without needing to seek any more out.

How wrong they were.

No matter how remote and unvisited his place was, it had never been as lonely as that broken-down old house in the middle of a busy city.

Katsu flung himself down on the barren ground, and pulled his knees up to his chest.

Not even Kijou knew where this place was, and they had been all but married …

Katsu shuddered, and swallowed back an upheaval of bile that rose in his throat at the memory of his time spent with the woman.  Really, he was lucky he was as sane as he was now.  Just one more year with her, even, and Tsukioka Katsuhiro would not likely exist.

But that didn't explain why she was here _now_.

He could confront her, perhaps, see what she really wanted … besides him, obviously.

Katsu thought back on the brief few minutes he had spent in her "company," and shuddered.  No.  no, he did not have the strength to face Kijou again.  Talking back to her like that was the hardest thing he had ever done in his life, and, quite frankly, Katsu was surprised he wasn't hyperventilating by now.

Because, after all, _Kijou …_

Was …

Back …

Oh shit.  There it goes.

Katsu placed his forehead on his knees and managed to croak out one weak prayer before giving in to the terror.

She was back.

**********************************

Okay, I need you guys' help.  *sighs*  I've finally broken down and accepted the fact that it would probably be a better idea for me to start my own site than stay fettered to ff.net and it subsidiary for the rest of my internet-writing career.  Now I just need to go about the process of _getting a site.  If anyone can recommend a good server, preferably a _free_ (or at least very cheap) one, as a) I'm broke and b) if you think that my parents have the inclination or the ability to pay big bucks for me to have a site _just because_ I don't like the one I'm on (ff.net), then man oh _man_ you have never met my parents.  I think I'd rather get a boiling-oil enema than ask my dad __that one.  (Well, fine, he's not _that_ bad.  Make it saltwater.)_

Oh, and anyone who can guess what Japanese word I based Kijou's name off of gets a cookie.  Here's a hint: I only added one letter.

**Kuroiyousei: Um, I never really say who asks Aoshi to keep an eye on Sano (I probably should have), but it's not Katsu, 'cause this is Aoshi making sure Sano doesn't do anything stupid like run off in the middle of the night to try and _find_ Katsu, who has been gone all day, and who could not possibly have anticipated this happening.  So the best guess is probably Kenshin – though he'd never say "don't do anything stupid" in so many words.  And the guilt thing doesn't work if I can see through your plot, only when I actually _do_ feel guilty, so nyah nyah.  ^_^  I will catch up on that one missing one eventually, though, I swear!**

**Anaii****: Interesting.  Some of those I probably would have guessed, but about half of them would have been my _last guesses (or almost-last).  *ponders*  *shrugs*  Cool._**

**sawdust**** monster  Thanks!  Ill try not to disappoint!  (Oh, and I love the name.  It rox.  Hehe.  Sawdust.  ^_^)**


	45. 45

Tsukioka did not return until sometime after midmorning the next day.  Sagara was – understandably – worried, and this worry expressed itself in an almost hysterical rage.  Five minutes after seeing his friend alive and well, and Sagara had started to berate him for making them worry and attempted to worm out the information as to where Tsukioka had spent the night.

Five minutes after that, and Sagara had probably forgotten he had ever been worried.

This was not due to some failing of Sagara's – his friend really was that good at manipulating conversations.  And say what you would about Sagara, but no one had ever accused him of being proficient in verbal skills.

For that matter, no one had ever accused Aoshi of same, either.

But that was fine – Aoshi knew his strength was not in communication, though he could make do in a pinch.  And when one knew he had a weakness, it was easy for him to work around that.  Far more difficult to do so when a person has not admitted to weakness.

Besides, Aoshi had never seen the need to disturb the silence with meaningless syllables just to make someone else comfortable, and when he was younger, he had been at a loss as to why anyone would do so.

But he was rambling.

Sagara most likely bought Tsukioka's façade of well-being.  So, apparently, did Kamiya, Myoujin-chan, and (probably) Misao-chan.  Himura certainly didn't – but neither would he feel able to or comfortable in prying into the affairs of a very good friend of a very good friend, especially one who is at the most indifferent to you.

Tsukioka may not hold any grudge against Himura, personally (as Aoshi believed), but he was, for one reason or another, no more than tepidly polite to the tiny redhead.  It was not obvious – a normal person would simply place Tsukioka as "reserved," stating that he acted that way to everyone he did not know well.  Which was true, but most people made an exception for Himura.

Tsukioka didn't, and apparently did not care to spend the time to get to know anyone besides Sagara better, so Himura would respect his wishes, and pretend to believe the lie.

Aoshi, however, was similarly unfooled, and yet had no compunction against pumping Tsukioka for all he knew if there was a possibility that the other man might be in danger (physical or otherwise)if he did nothing.

Aoshi's thoughts drifted to the painting that was even now tightly rolled in a waterproof container in his luggage, and his mind was made up.

No one who could make something like that should be allowed to anguish needlessly.  He would find out what troubled Tsukioka, and see if he could help the young artist.

Young?

He was barely a few years older than Tsukioka.  The difference was almost negligible.

That didn't matter.

It was night now, and almost everyone (everyone but Himura and Aoshi) had gone to bed.  The tall ninja stood outside the door to his shared room for a moment, thinking about what he was going to do.

Then he opened the door, and went in.

***********************************

*pounds head against wall until skull caves in* Okay, NOW I'm going to kill myself.  1) Day after Halloween: 1st missed day.  I worked my ass off all day, which I did NOT plan on doing, and by the end of the day it was all I could do to collapse on the floor somewhere out of the flow of traffic.  Obviously, no new chapter.  2)  Something I did not know until late Saturday night, but for the past TWO FUCKING DAYS, I have been unable to write and save documents in Word on my computer.  It's fixed now, thank God, and I still have no idea what happened.  So you'll be getting at least two more chapters today I promise.

But please, feel free to kill me anyways.

**audreyt26: Well, I hope you don't think it's "another bad yaoi story" anymore.  And um … please explain the next sentence.  I always thought those statements were mutually exclusive.  (or I just don't understand – more likely).  Thanks for the compliments (*preens*), and the whole Aoshi-with-green-eyes thing has been one of the main reasons I can't read a lot of fiction featuring him, sadly.  One of those little things that just completely ruins the story.  :(  Oh, and here.  *hands "I Luv Katsu" pennant*  closet fans, unite!  ^_^**

**Kuroiyousei****:  Well, she's pretty really goddamn horrible, you can believe that.  And yes.  Yes he does.  ^_^  Hmm.  How much do you pay for your site, anyways?  And which provider/host/thingy do you use?  I can probably convince my parents to take it out of my allowance if it's not too bad (but my allowance is $2 a week, or whenever they remember, so I don't really have much breathing room.)**

**jo****: *grins*  *hugs*  *calls mental ward*  *books two spots*  Thanks for the reviews!**

**Anaii****: Well, you probably _can_ wait, actually.  Here's a hint – it's nothing Katsu wants.  At all.**


	46. 46

How dare he.

_How_ dare he?

How _dare he?_

How dare _he__!_

_How dare he!?!?_

He could not refuse her.  It was simply not possible – the moon might as well try to refuse the sun.  It _was not possible._

So it could not have happened.  He would never refuse her of his own free will.

_Ah_.

There it was.

Kijou smiled, content, and stopped her furious pacing.  Of _course.  Katsu would never in his right mind refuse her, so it must follow that he had not been in his right mind.  It made _sense_._

He was drugged then, or hypnotized, or …

Or …

Or there was another who sought to replace her.

That was enough to make Kijou's blood boil (_no one_ took what was rightfully hers!) and her vision turn red.

Another woman, taken by Katsu, trying to turn him from her.  It was made _sense_.  It was _logical_.

It would never work.

She'd get Katsu back.  And then, when he was thinking clearly again, she kill the shameless cunt that dared try and steal _her Katsu._

Kijou left her opulent, luxurious room and stalked down an equally rich hall.

She'd need help on this.

****************************

*key dramatic music, again*

And we have the actual beginning of a plot!  *hold for applause* … *holding* … *holding* … Oh, _fine_.  *pouts*  Right, anyways, it's all going to go up from here.  Or down, depending on perspective.  And there's really not that much else to say about this chapter.

And remember, all readers with a website: _please_ let me know which ones are the best providers/hosts out there, if you know, or, if you don't, then the name of your host and the average cost/month.  I'll never get off this place if you don't.  *puppy eyes*


	47. 47

When Shinomiri came into the room, I wasn't sure if he knew I was awake or not, so I decided to play it safe and let him make the first move (if he would make any move at all).  For all I knew, he had had an extremely rough day and just wanted to go to sleep.

I heard him getting ready for sleep, slipping under the sheets on his futon, and then go quiet.  So that was how it would be.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

… or not.  It almost wasn't a question, really, but, then again, Shinomiri spoke so softly it was hard to make out any inflection at all.  For a moment, I considered replying with "talk about what?" … but I did not think that he would be very appreciative of that tactic.

"No."  I hoped he would leave me alone after that.  I had been clear enough, and Shinomiri was a reasonable man; there was no reason for him to press further.

Apparently, though, there was.

"Will you or anyone around you be in any danger because of it?"

Well, that was certainly to the point.  It was a sensible question, actually – Shinomiri would want to protect his friends, and I'm not at all loathe to protect his.

"No."  No possible way.  K-kijou is a spoiled rich brat, and very little more.  She can threaten and scream all she wants, but she can't do a damn thing to me now that I'm not her little pet anymore.

It's a good feeling.

Shinomiri said nothing, but he didn't really need to.  Do you have any idea how annoying it is to _hear _someone raise their eyebrow?

"She's harmless Shinomiri, or else I would already be five leagues out of city by now."  Ooops.  I think I may have let on a bit more than I wanted to there.  Well, no fixing it now.

"She?"

Now … how to answer this with the minimum possible words ...

"An old … lover."

I winced the moment I let that title pass my lips.  Kijou would never deserve such a fond name.

"Ah."

How does he manage to fit so much meaning into a single syllable?  I'll have to ask him later.

"Yes … well …"  God, could this _get any more uncomfortable (for me)?  "Sleep well, Aoshi."_

Oh.  He might not appreciate being called by his personal name by – technically – a stranger.

"Sleep well, Katsuhiro."

Looks like he's not easily offended.  Well, that's a relief.  But … how long has it been since someone called me by that name?  It's been "Katsu" or "Tsukioka-san" or "Tsunan" since almost before I can remember.

I think it was … the first time I saw Sano after the Sekihoutai were betrayed … yes, that was the last time anyone has called me by "Katsuhiro."  It feels awkward in my mind, referring to myself like that.

Katsuhiro.

I almost forgotten it was my name.

…

It's a strange feeling, really.

It is.

**************************

Damn.  Am I moving this relationship thing slowly or _what_?  Hehehe.  Not really fond of this chapter, but it's the best I could come up with for today – sorry!

**Nicky: Just a bit strange, yeah.  ^_^  …  And I forgot to write in any innocent bystanders freaking out over that little fact.  D'oh! *smacks head***

Yeah, 'bout that.  Well, now you _know she's a psycho.  And she will get worse as time goes on.  Well, she won't actively _get_ any worse, but you'll realize that she's _always been_ a lot worse than what you thought._

**Anaii****: Look, Kenny's got enough fanfic already.  This is not his time to shine.  But Aoshi will be demonstrating even more stunning levels of Aoshiness (*finger cross*), so that should be good enough for you.  ^_^  (It is, right?)**

**Lychee2:  Be afraid.  Be _very_ afraid.  MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!  Can't comment of the DBZ stuff, but yes, Kijou will be very surprised – as will Katsu, just by the way she jumps to her conclusion.  And Aoshi may or may not use his kodachis – I'm not that sure, really.  It's a ways to go yet.  And I really think Sano gets a lot less credit than he deserves – he's uneducated, yeah, but he's actually pretty smart.  You know he's observant enough – when he was introduced, what did he get about Kenshin that no one else did – not even Kaoru, who had known him for at least a week or so by then, and is supposed to be definitely not stupid?  And I don't blame Sano, either.  _I want Katsu to be okay.  ^_^_**

**Kuroiyousei: Thank you for your forgiveness.  ^_^  And um, yeah, $40/month is … a bit … out of my range.  I can't afford the _$12/month price.  I do want my own domain name eventually, too, though.  I don't know about the subdomain – I mean, ideally, I would want some to categorize my stuff a bit more, but if there wouldn't be enough, I don't know if it'd be worth the bother.  …  A lj code would be nice – I've actually been thinking about just using one of those as my site, if there would be a way for me to get it divided into the layout/subsection/things I want (I think I could do that if I got a paid account …).  Oh, wait, have I given you proper thanks yet?  Well, here's some anyways: *_****_GLOMPS_*  Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou!!!  ^_^**

Yeah, she's pretty scary, isn't she?  Rich bitch is right, as is your description – I've had the unfortunate chance to meet far too many of them for my liking (_one_ would be way too much, though …)  And isn't it great?  She's going to _freak when she realizes what's going on – and, oddly enough, she'll be the first to know.  *blushes* Aw.  I love you, too.  (Even though you said you love my story, which is not actually me.  It still works.)_


	48. 48

Some things should have the decency to be kept to the darkness.  The problem is, those things bad enough to warrant such treatment usually have no decency at all.

This was one of those things.

Kijou sat demurely on the slightly rough tatami, looking for all the world like a patient, obedient, **normal** woman.

Which she was not.

As a matter of fact, she was the slightest bit angry.  She knew he could afford better and more comfortable flooring – they certainly paid him enough – and she also knew he didn't only to increase the discomfort of any visitors he might have.  To make them fully aware of just how much he was in control.

He did have problems with control, her employee.

That's why she let him believe he actually was in control.  That he wasn't less than a bug beneath her sandal.  It didn't do any harm.

But he had been getting too arrogant lately.  Arrogance that this visit would not help decrease.

And that wasn't good, at all.

She'd have to teach him a lesson, soon.  As soon as he did this last job.  As soon as he got her Katsu back.

She'd let him know who was really in control, then.

****************************

More of Kijou being psychotic.  You're going to see a lot of her around, probably.  She is kinda instrumental to the plot.  Just sorta kinda maybe a little.

Oh, and I broke down and got a lj today.  Just today, so there's one entry in it, but it's still there.  I'll post all of my stuff up there eventually, but it'll all be on a "when I feel like it" basis.  So if you wanna check it out, go ahead, but it'll be pretty empty until I put some stuff up there tomorrow or so.

**Kuroyousei: Well, I'm glad you liked it anyways.  Originally, I was planning it to be a dramatic, angst-fest, Katsu-tells-all-that-he-didn't-tell-the-last-time-he-told-all thing, but then I thought this would be more believable.  I'm sorry to say, but let's face it: these two are not in love.  They will _fall in love, later on, but they will be very good friends first, and right now we're no even to that.  If you really want to know, check out how they mentally refer to each other.  That'll give you a _very_ general idea of their relationship.  And thanks for the lj code!  *hugs*_**

**FarStrider****: *grins*  Thanks.  That's high praise, it is.  Thank you for the site/host/thing rec!  I'll have my brother (the Almost A+ certified One) check it out first opportunity – which will probably be some time tomorrow.  No, thank you isn't enough.  You want me to write you anything?  (It could even be a certain chapter in this, if it fits)  Probably a second-rate way of saying thank-you, but it's all the gift I can give.  :(**

**Kuramasgirl556: Thank you for the nice compliments!  I'll be sure to read and respond to your fics (well, any and all ones in fandoms I actually _know anything about, which is not a lot, sorry to say) at the soonest possible convenience.  (hey!  Fancy words!  Didn't mean to sound like a priss, sorry)_**


	49. 49

_Katsu …_

_Kaat-suuu__ …_

_Where are you, Katsu?_

_I can't see you._

_Are you hiding from me, Katsu?_

_Don't hide from me._

_Why would you want to?_

_I am good to you, Katsu._

_I am better than you deserve._

_And you know it, too._

_I love you, Katsu._

_You love me too, don't you?_

_Of course  you do._

_Come to me Katsu._

_I love you._

_You are mine._

_You belong to **me**, Katsu._

_No one else.___

_Remember that._

_Where are you going, Katsu?_

_I don't think you should go._

_Don't go, Katsu._

_I won't let you._

_Don't make me angry with you, Katsu._

_I don't like getting angry at you, Katsu, but I will._

_Stop making me angry with you._

_It's not my fault._

_I love you._

_I am your everything._

_Without me, you are nothing._

_Without me, you would not exist._

_At all.___

_I **made** you, Katsu._

_I brought you to what you are._

_Without me, you would be **dead**!_

_Aren't you lucky?_

_Not many people have someone like me to love them._

_Katsu, I'm trying to think._

_Katsu, stop talking like you know anything._

_I take care of everything, remember?_

_You don't have to worry about a thing._

_I won't let you._

_Katsu, stop it!_

_You were looking at her, weren't you?_

_Do you want her?_

_More than you want me?_

_Am I ugly to you now, Katsu?_

_Are you just going to throw me away?_

_What would I do without you, Katsu?_

_What would **you** do without **me?**_

_You'd die._

_I don't want you to die, Katsu._

_I love you too much._

_Don't make me bring you back, Katsu._

_You won't like it if I have to bring you back._

**_I__ won't like it, either._**

_I will bring you back._

_You can't throw me away, Katsu._

_You are nothing without me._

_I love you too much._

_So don't make me hurt you again, Katsu._

_I don't want to have to hurt you._

_I love you._

_Remember?_

*************************

I swear to God my computer hates me.  Or it isn't happy unless it just randomly stops working for two days.  Either or.  I don't really care.  I just want it dead.  But whatever.  More of Kijou being a freaky bitch, only this time in dreamland.  Yay.  I actually like her, in a sick way, just 'cause I think she's a really nice villain.  And so very 3vil.  (for all you l33t ones out there.)  Oh, and who can guess why tomorrow is the bestest day in the entire year?  (here's a hint: *hums birthday song*)

**Kuroiyousei: ^_^  I'm glad you're interested in her.  I'm still a little afraid that she's gonna suck, as she is an original character, and it's so hard to stick those in without major suckage.  But whatever.  And I am putting into motion the series of events that will make Katsu and Aoshi realize that they are in love, so that'll be good.  ^_^**

**FarStrider****: 100 reveiws!  *dances*!  I love you!  (And actually, I AM throwing a party – just not for the 100 reviews)  I'm getting my dad to look at the site today, and then I'll see if it's good.  It probably is, though.  ^_^**

**sawdust**** monster:  Interesting … that's one way to put it, yes.  ^_^  I hope I don't disappoint!**


	50. 50

Dreams are funny things.  They can make you scream and cry without any effort at all, and if anyone else had them, they would feel nothing.  No one has the same dream as someone else.  No one is affected in the same way by the same dream as anyone else.  The terrifying dreams make you feel safe and the normal ones make you want to throw up.

Yeah.

Fucking hilarious.

Katsu woke bolt upright, drenched in sweat and still hearing the echo of Kijou's voice in his head.  He couldn't move, couldn't think, could barely breathe …

Breathe.

Breathe.

In, out.  In, out.

_Ichi__, ni, san, yottsu._

_Stop it, Katsu.  Stop hyperventilating like a nervous woman._

_Stop it._

_Calm down.  She's not here.  It's alright._

_Calm.___

Katsu took a few more deep breaths before he could say he was ready to actually calm down.  It wasn't so bad anymore, actually.  Waking had removed most of the memory of Kijou's voice, and the warmth around him was doing a good job at making him if not forget about, then not care about the few things left.

Warmth?

There was … warmth … on his back.

There was a hand on his back.

Katsu looked up, confused and a little worried, into a pair of jade green eyes.

Green?

Oh.

Katsu opened his mouth, and found that his vocal cords had suddenly refused to work.  He was incapable of producing anything beyond a raspy croak.  He swallowed, licked his dry, chapped lips, and tried again, still staring into those steady green eyes, though he felt like he might collapse at any time.

"Aoshi."

The tall ninja raised one ebony eyebrow, and said, in all seriousity and without a hint of mockery, "harmless."

Katsu would have flushed, but he was too weak to do so.  He lowered his head, and that tiny motion was enough to do him in.  He fell forward – or would have, but Aoshi's chest stopped him before he could get very far.

To Katsu's everlasting surprise, Aoshi did not push him away, but gathered him into a gentle embrace that felt very much like the one an older brother would give.  Well, probably it did.  Not having an older brother, Katsu couldn't really comment on how it felt.

He didn't really care, either.  Without Aoshi where he was right now, Katsu would have been flat on his face with a bruised _something, and he knew it._

He gripped the taller man's yukatta tighter – to steady himself – and made no move to leave, either.

"Maybe …" it was less of a word and more of a sigh, dragged out of Katsu's unwilling lips where it was swallowed up and muffled against Aoshi's chest.  "Maybe … not so harmless, after all."

"Ah."  Again he could trace no hint of mockery in that cool voice, though the words alone left plenty of room for it.

Well, if that wasn't an opening to continue, nothing was, and thanks to that dream, Katsu knew damn well that if he didn't do _something_ to get Kijou off his chest, and now, then he'd never be able to be free of her.  And Aoshi had already proven to be a good listener, hadn't he?

Another sigh, and Katsu closed his eyes in resignation – not that there was much difference in what he could and could not see.  Aoshi was waiting for a further tale, no question about it.  Not _pressing for it, oh no, but willing to hear should Katsu be willing to speak._

"Her name is Tatamisu Kijou," he began, and felt the ninja shift their position into one that would be more comfortable to stay in for an extended period of time.  Normally, Katsu would at least offer a token protest at being treated like a fragile woman, but now he was just too weary to.  "and, as I said, she used to be my lover …"

***********************

Well, here's the next one.  And a hug.  Awww.  (Just as I wrote that, the song on the radio went: "nature is a whore".  No meaning – I just thought that was funny.)  Unless I got it wrong, the Japanese up there in the beginning is "one, two, three, four," and someone tell me if I spelled yukatta wrong.  Didn't come out exactly how I wanted it too (when does it ever?) – for one, the hug feels too abrupt, and not really believable.  Oh, well.  It'll be fine as it is once I post 51.


	51. 51

Something was wrong.  Aoshi didn't yet know what it was, but something was definitely wrong.  What was it?

There!

There is was again – the faintest noise, the smallest disturbance in the air.  But it was definitely there.  What …?

Tsukioka.

Thought was action, and Aoshi was up and moving to the other man's futon before he even realized his legs had moved.  Tsukioka was asleep, but not soundly so.  Dreaming, most likely.

Dreaming nightmares.

At least, Aoshi wasn't sure how someone could have _that _look on their face and still be having pleasant dreams.  He looked halfway between screaming and crying, except that he wasn't making any sound more than the occasional suppressed whimper – which was what woke Aoshi in the first place.

"Tsukioka?"  He didn't speak softly – what was the point when you were trying to wake someone? – but he didn't yell, either.  No point in letting everyone else know there was something wrong, though.

He didn't respond, so Aoshi went the next step.  He placed one hand on the artist's shoulder and shook lightly.

"Tsukioka, wake up.  You are having a nightmare."  Again that calm, steady voice – Aoshi had found that yelling at someone who was having unpleasant dreams was rarely as effective as everyone believed.

But there was still not reaction from Tsukioka – not to Aoshi anyways.  He did react to something in his own mind – a slight gasp, a noticeable increase in perspiration on his forehead, though his skin was ice to the touch – all of which only made Aoshi more resolute in that he would be woken.

"Wake up Tsukioka.  Katsuhiro.  Wake up."  He stirred slightly at that and Aoshi paused.  Well, if _that worked …_

"Katsu.  Katsu, wake up.  Wake –"

And then he was awake, and Aoshi was staring directly into a pair of not-quite-sane gray-blue eyes.  Awake or not, it was some time before Katsu had stopped hyperventilating, and in the meantime, Aoshi found it necessary to put a hand on his back to keep him steady.  When Katsu finally looked up, it was obvious that he hadn't expected Aoshi to be there.  The artist opened and closed his mouth a few times (looking remarkably like a fish) before he actually said anything.

"Aoshi."  He sounded surprised.  Why would that be?

"Harmless."  Aoshi had no real way of know what the dream was about, but he had a pretty good guess.  And an accurate one, by Katsu's expression.

Katsu lowered his head – in shame, or something else, Aoshi didn't know – and that did it.  Unbalanced and probably more than a little shaken, that was all it took to send him falling straight forward into Aoshi's chest.

Aoshi blinked down at the dark crown that was all he could see of Katsu by now, and decided it was probably for the best, all things considered.  Wouldn't have wanted him to injure himself on the hardwood floor – tatami gave very little cushion.  Well, if that was enough to make him fall over, who knew what else would send him toppling again …

With a sigh that was purely internal, Aoshi gently put his arms around the younger man's frame.

Besides, he probably needed a little comfort …

Well, that was proved when hands tightened on his yukata (and now he was glad he had worn _something to sleep in), and Katsu didn't move._

"Maybe …" it barely broke the silence as it was, and was muffled by Aoshi's chest to boot, but the ninja had no trouble hearing Katsu.  "Maybe she's … not so harmless, after all."

"Ah."  Well, _that_ was fairly obvious, wasn't it?  Still, Aoshi said nothing – it would not do to rush him now.

Katsu sighed again, and it was obvious that he was going to elaborate this time.  Aoshi shifted so that the artist was sitting less on his lap and more cradled against his chest – so they would be more comfortable in the event of an extended story.

"Her name is Tatamisu Kijou," now, that was something to file away for later use, "and, as I said, she used to be my lover …"

**********************

**Lychee2: yes, Aoshi will make it allllll better … *sigh* not really, not yet I'm afraid, actually.  Spellcheck is very good, isn't it?  I'm a terrible speller, so it's always a must.  And hooray for anal-retentiveness!  *is also Scorpio*  **

**Kuroiyousei: Okay, think of the most psychotic, obsessed, controlling, mentally abusive lover you can.  Now add money.  Lots of money.  You have Kijou.  She and Katsu have a History – and he's not at all happy about that.  And really, very silly Japanese – they have what, five words for four?  *throws hands into air*  I'll remember it next time, though.  Aoshi is just sexy.  No variables, he just is.  *drools*  And um … sorry for the wait … but you can hold your breath for what … two, three days, right?  Easy. Err … gottagosorrybyedon'tkillme! *disappears***

**Nicky: Pyhsical contact is _always good, yes indeedy!  And score one for Katsu, too!_**

**dragoneyes****: *sniff*  I love the smell of yaoi in the morning!  (and in the afternoon, and in the evening, and at teatime …)  And yes, Kijou has very serious control problems.  Poor, poor Katsu.  But I do hope the story is somewhat interesting, at least.**


	52. 52

_"Her name is Tatamisu Kijou, and, as I already said, she used to be my lover …"_

That was how Katsu had started the story.  Now, how was he going to finish it?  Should he start at the beginning, from the first time he had seen her?  From the middle, when their "relationship" had started?  From the end, when it had broken off?

Where?

It was not a matter of which would be most comfortable for Katsu – any talking about Kijou mad his skin crawl.  Any thinking about her mad him hunger for a bath.  There was no comfortable place to begin – he only wanted to be sure he was making sense.

Well, it usually is considered best to begin at the beginning …

"I met her when I was fifteen.  I had been living in Tokyo for five years, four of which had been spent as an apprentice under the painter Yokzoma Tishki – a man of middling reputation and extraordinary talent."  Katsu smiled for a moment, remembering the elderly and often sharp voice of the man who had taken him in after Sagara-taichou … died.  "He could have easily been employed by a wealthy aristocrat, wearing silks and eating the finest foods available … but he hated, absolutely _hated the rich.  _'I'll paint their silly portraits, and I'll take their money,'_ he would always say, _'but I'd rather roll in the filth of pigs every day for the rest of my life than spend one day in the employ of a pig in dragon's clothing!'_"  Katsu chuckled a little.  "He had a terribly poor view of money – and, this will eventually get to a point, alright?"  Katsu looked up at Aoshi, who nodded slightly and motioned for Katsu to continue._

Apparently, Aoshi was going to be a mostly passive listener, and let Katsu tell his story uninterrupted.  For which Katsu was supremely grateful.  This was going to be difficult enough as it was.

He closed his eyes, and began again.

************************************

Yes, that was a shitty ending, I know.  I hate pure expository writing like this, so the next few chapters are gong to be pure flashback.  This was only to set up the stage so that no one would start to read the _next_ couple chapters and be like: "?????  What the [blip] is she [blip]ing doing, for [blip]'s sake?"  And now I must write more.

**Kuroiyousei: Well, thanks, I guess.  And we all know that Aoshi is dead sex-ay.  … And … cylindrical … objects?  Wow.  Wonder what their children's books must be like.  *mind recoils from though*  Not good image.  Or a hilariously funny image, depending on perspective.  I doubt the author was ready for perverted American ways.**

**Jane Sliver: Oh yes – definitely.  ^_^  Lucky Katsu.**


	53. 53

"Katsuhiro!"  
  
"Yes, sensei?" At fifteen, Katsu had yet to put on his last few inches, so he still had to look up to see into Yokuzoma-sensei's face.  
  
"Don't you 'yes, sensei' me, you stupid idiot of an apprentice! You should be too busy to even hear me come in! What am I housing you for, giving you food for?! To make art, that's what! You should be so weary of painting that you beg me to let you stop! Your fingers should be worn to the bone, you lazy boy! TO THE BONE, DO YOU HEAR ME!?!?"  
  
Ah. He got another commission today. Katsu bowed his head and fought to keep in the laughter that was fighting to burst out. "Yes sensei."  
  
"Humph." Yokuzoma-sensei glared at Katsu (who made sure he was the picture of meek obedience) before picking up the tray of food which Katsu had set out for him and devouring his dinner. It was not a rare occurrence that his sensei would stay out late as he had done tonight, so Katsu had learned (very quickly) how to set out trays of food that would not spoil and how to keep those trays at the right temperature, neither too hot nor too cold. Katsu knew very well there was nothing wrong with the food - unless you considered the taste, which was practically nonexistent, but Yokuzoma- sensei had never develop much in the way of a sense of taste.  
  
Luckily.  
  
So of course, not being able to find fault with anything, he would only be more irritable.  
  
"Boy!"  
  
"Yes?" Katsu debated against adding 'sensei', but decided against it. If he had a commission, he probably needed more supplies, so that was most likely going to be Katsu's next errand.  
  
"I need you to go and get me some more of the violet and crimson paints, and a new fan brush, and I need them before nightfall!"  
  
Katsu sighed. There was barely an hour until dark, and it took over half an hour to travel to and from the marketplace. Plus, crimson and violet were both extremely rare and expensive (which is why they did not keep such a steady supply of them as they did the other colors), so he'd be lucky if there was any left this late. He stood, and bowed to Yokuzoma-sensei, collecting the money offered to him. He knew better than to get angry at Yokuzoma-sensei - this was an old discussion, played out many times between them.  
  
And Katsu always lost. Well, most of the time.  
  
"Yes, sensei." 


	54. 54

After Katsu had met the man who had commissioned his sensei's services, he didn't wonder why Yokuzoma-sensei had been so furious that night.

Tatamisu Hiejo was a twit.

His daughter wasn't much better, the spoiled brat.

Katsu sighed, and tried to tune out the high-pitched voice of Tatamisu Kijou.  Honestly.  For a woman a year his senior, she didn't have the most enthralling conversational skills imaginable.

_She's boring, and her laugh would make a raccoon want to kill itself._

"And what about you, Tsukioka-kun?"  Katsu sighed as she batted her eyes at him, and tried not to let _too much of his aggravation show._

"I'm not sure, Tatamisu-san.  I do not spend much time following what the fashionable population thinks."

She pouted – which looked completely _ridiculous_ on a grown an more than reasonably attractive woman.  "What _do_ you do, then?"

"I paint, mostly."  Maybe if he was as curt as possible without actually crossing the border into _rudeness_, she'd get the hint.

"Oh."  She paused, and had to think of what to say for the first time since she had opened her mouth.  "Your master – he must be very harsh."

Oh Buddha – she's not going to go down _this_ path, is she?  Katsu shrugged.  "Not really."

"But I heard the way he spoke to you, earlier," she pressed.  "He sounded awfully cruel."

With great force of will, Katsu did not roll his eyes in her face.  "I suppose he would, at that."

She frowned – but what else had she expected?  That he would suddenly smile that someone understood and proceed to spill out his entire life story?  He opened his mouth to say something – 

"Katsuhiro!"  And he was most conveniently interrupted.

Katsu smiled gently, and stood up.  "A thousand pardons, Tatamisu-sama, but my master calls, and I must obey."

A bit facetious perhaps, but the woman was annoying.  He would have to ask Yokuzoma-sensei if he could be spared from "entertaining" her next time.

**********************

heh.  Very long delay, I know.  Please, no eggs, or anything that stains.  I will catch up before next Monday, I swear.  Oh, FYI – Kijou is a bitch.  No matter what.  And she doesn't want me to write her.  But I say:  FUCK YOU, BITCH!  YOU'RE JUST A FIGMENT OF MY IMAGINATION, SO NYAH NYAH!

Oddly enough, I feel better.

**Kuroiyousei: learned helplessness is good, especially when it comes to my writing.  That's sorta how I feel about it anyways.**

**FarStrider****: Of course you like it.  You haven't said a bad thing about my writing yet (or nothing I haven't said).  *grumbles*  Keep it up and you might get me believing I'm _good_ or something.**

**Brittany67: oh, they love each other, really.  And it was no problem!**

**Blah16, 17 & 18: (I'm assuming you're the same person)  thanks for the review!**


	55. 55

"Boy!"

A sigh.

"Yes, sensei?"

"What do you think, boy?"

"About what, sensei?"

"Don't play the fool with me, boy!  What did I have you doing the whole time I was taking the measurements for that twice-cursed commission?!"

Another sigh.

"Tatamisu Kijou."

"_Yes boy, I know that's her name.  I'm glad you do too, but you can't possibly expect me to believe that's __all you learned about her."_

"No, sensei, it's not."

"Well?  Speak _up_, boy, or do I have to pull the words from you?!"

"…"

"Tell.  Me.  Boy."

One last sigh, this one sharp and irritated.

"I think she's a twit and the absolute _worst_ waste of breathable air that was ever created.  She is arrogant, naïve, idiotic, spoiled, selfish –"

"So you won't mind keeping her out of my way while I work on that damned commission her father set me?"

"Wha-! Bu-!  I-!"

"I'll take that as a 'No, sensei, I'd be delighted to help you in any way I can as a good student would,' then."

"I MOST CERTIANTLY WILL –"

"Ah?"

"…."

"You were saying, boy?"

"Be … delighted … to help … you.  Sensei."

"Good boy."

****************************

Eheheh.  Uh … late much?  Oh, just a little.  Please don't kill me, Faery, Strider!  Please?  Let's see, this is chapter 55, and I should be on … *counts* … **_74!?!?!?_**  Holy Mother of God!  Well, say hello to at-least-twice-a-day-updates until I get caught up … urk!

**Kuroiyousei: Um … here it is?  Again, don't kill me?  That would be good.  Yeah.  Reeeeeaaaaal good.  *runs and hides*  Sorry!**

**sawdust**** monster: uh … sorry about the "length" thing – it's not going to get much better**

**blah****: Yay!  I guessed right (all one person).  I'm glad you like the story, and I hope you keep reviewing!**


	56. 56

He didn't like her very much.  If at all.

Tatamisu Kijou pursed her lips in displeasure, an action which did not favor her features by any means.  That simply wouldn't do.  He _had_ to like her – she was rich and beautiful, and he was just some lowly artist's apprentice.  A very _handsome lowly artist's apprentice, or she wouldn't have given him a _first_ glance, much less a second one, but still.  Facts were facts, and the facts said that he should have been falling over himself to please her.  After all, she was, if not the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, then at least the richest._

Instead, he had _patronized her, treated her like a little girl – and not a very bright little girl, either.  She seethed at the very memory.  But ..._

He was so _very handsome, with those eyes of his, and that fine black hair, and those fine-boned, artist's hands …_

She _wanted him.  He was __new, and __different, and _challenging_._

And no one had ever accused Tatamisu Kijou of turning down a good challenge.

She smirked, and the expression looked no better on her than the frown had.  If anything, the effect was worse.  But there were no mirrors around, so she didn't care.

She wanted Tsukioka Katsuhiro, and she would get him.

By whatever means necessary.

**************************

Machiavellian, anyone?  Juuuuust a tad.  Second update for today … tonight … and I'm _not going to get in a third.  And I'm sorry to say, you guy's'll be lucky to get two again tomorrow, seeing as how I have an overnight party in the afternoon/evening/next morning and chores in the morning …_

Oh, just smash my head in with a brick and spare me the agony, why don't'cha?  I can supply the bricks!  Okay, that's a lie.


	57. 57

It was unfortunate, Katsu thought as he and Yokuzoma-sensei stood outside of the Tatamisu residence, that whining was unbefitting and shamefull for a man his age. Otherwise, this might have been somewhat tolerable. He sighed, then straightened his shoulders and gritted his teeth. It was going to happen, and there was nothing he could do about it, and he'd be damned if he'd shame his sensei over a little thing like not being able to control his emotions.  
  
The door-servant let them in far too soon, and Katsu walked forward into his - temorary - Hell ...  
  
... Only to find later that someone had doused the fires and was serving chilled drinks with little paper umbrellas in them as refreshments. The drinks were not of any recognizable color, and they tastes a bit like fish, but overall ...  
  
Overall, there was a limit to how far one could stretch a metaphor, and he had not only just passed it, he had demolished it and scrawled rude graffitti on the remains.  
  
.... Right.  
  
The point was, it wasn't as bad as he'd thought it'd be. Not that he'd ever admit that to anyone. Kijou seemed ... distracted today - occasionally she would forget to give a completely vapid answer, and end up with a comment that was actually intelligent. Whenever that happened, they both tended to fall silent for a few moments until one of them (usually Kijou) broke the resulting awkwardness with a brightly meaningless statement. He learned a great deal from that "talk" - probably more that Kijou had meant him to.  
  
It was very ... interesting.  
  
And, try as he might, he couldn't find another way to put it when Yokuzoma-sensei asked him. 


	58. 58

After that day, keeping Kijou "out of the way" while Yokuzoma-sensei worked on the commission wasn't the big task it had been.  With every visit, she relaxed a bit more, until finally, when Yokuzoma was nearing completion, they finally had what Katsu was willing to call a real conversation.

It was ... indescribable.

Never before had anyone ever acted like Kijou did around Katsu.  No one had ever been so fascinating, so unpredictable, so _interesting_ to talk to, or even just be around.  When they talked, they _talked, about subjects they both enjoyed, and they shared the same opinions on.  They didn't argue much - Kijou didn't like arguing - but Katsu got enough arguing for forty men from Yokuzoma-sensei.  It wasn't as if arguing something he was severely lacking in._

She _liked being around him.  She _enjoyed_ spending time with him.  And he wasn't at all averse to _her_ company either._

It was a revelation.

"Katsu!  Are you coming?"  Kijou turned around and was – impatiently – waiting for him.  Katsu grinned.

"Of course, Kijou-san!"

***********************************

EXTREMLEY LONG A/N THAT YOU MAY WANT TO READ IF YOU WANT TO HAVE ANY IDEA OF WHAT'S HAPPENING, OR WHO TO BITCH TO WHEN THINGS AREN'T.  

Argh.  Well, we're getting near the end of this flashback-scene.  That's all I have to say for this.  Oh, and when it's done, I may very well just start to focus more on the Saitou/Sano bit of this story.  Just because I have said it's in, but left it hideously undeveloped.  _

Where I am – chapter 59.  Where I should be – chapter 93.  One word: urk!  Okay.  _Obviously, I will not likely get caught up before 100.  Obviously.  _But_ – I all but have my black belt, and the last day of school is Friday – which is only two days away.  After that, I have a week or two of vacation from both school (and homework and concerts) __and karate (and the two-lessons-a-week, plus sparring, and the occasional 2-7 hour stripe tests).  Already, I have __way less stress to worry about than I did this morning.  Now, I feel really bad about saying that updates would pick up and then not, and I hesitate to disappoint again, but I'm going to go out on a limb and say that updates __will be more regular and on-schedule – and though I can't __promise multiple updates a day, whenever I can, I will do so.  So that's that on the update front – but if anyone wants to know why I'm lagging, check my livejournal and I may have a reason there.  Or email me.  Or catch me on AIM, Y!, or MSN (Y! would be your best bet – and you can check my profile for those, because I don't feel like writing them here.)  Harassment usually makes me work faster, as the Oni people will no doubt tell you.  Plus, it lets me know there are people who are not Strider and/or Faery who want me to update._

**Kuroiyousei****: 55 - No, Yoku-san has _no idea what he's doing.  At all.  56 – Yay for Styrofoam bricks, and yay for Aoshi beating the crap out of Kijou.  Which will not happen for far too long, I'm afraid.  57 – Yes, it's very freaky to write, too.  And this one and the next few will be worse._**

**Nicky: Well, thank you for not killing me then.  I'm glad you like the short chapters – they're not going to get very much longer very soon.**

**blah: 55 – I'm very sorry, but no, I couldn't make the chapters just a wee bit longer.  Unless by wee bit you mean a whole page instead of just a fragment of one.  I have a _lot of catching up to do, and that does not promote long chapters, I'm afraid. 56 – [quotes World History notes] – Niccolo Machiavelli –wrote the book _The Prince_, which told how to gain power and keep it in spite of your enemies.  Conned the phrase "the ends justify the means."  Machiavellian – describes crafty or deceitful actions used for own advantage. [end quote]  57 – I'M SORRY!  I only realized that I forgot the A/N _after_ posted it, and by then it was way to late for me to write it up again.  I didn't mean to ignore you – and I'm talking to you now, aren't I?  And I never said anything about not writing 1/3 of pages – but I will take the "if they were from anyone but you" as a compliment.  ^_^_**

**Sunrise****:  *accepts allowance*  Heh.  Thank you very much!  I'm glad you like it, and I hope I'll be able to get out more regular chapters for you and everyone else soon, so you don't have take this _off _ your favs because the author is lazy.  ^_^**

**sawdust**** monster: Yes, you do have to buy the bricks.  And if that's not fair, well, neither is making me pay for my execution.  ^_^  I hope to _have  more for you to look forward to!_**

**dragoneyes****: yes, she could get more shallow.  It's not a pretty sight, though.  Remember though, Katsu doesn't know she's an evil bitch at this point.  So it's not as unbelievable for him as it is for us.  I hope I didn't disappoint with this one – you waited long enough!**


	59. 59

Katsu was not a normally happy person.  An intelligent person, a sensible person, a talented person, a cynical person, a disagreeable person, a quiet person – yes, yes, always; but he wasn't a happy person.  Katsu just didn't _do happy._

But he was happy now.  It was an amazing thing – even Yokuzoma-sensei noticed the difference.

Well, more accurately, _only Yokuzoma-sensei noticed the difference, as he was the only person Katsu spent a lot of time with.  Katsu wasn't sure yet if his sensei knew the reason for his happiness – but he had noticed that the old man had developed a cough which seemed to flare to life whenever Katsu looked especially happy._

In fact, not even Katsu himself knew why he was so happy – but he had a fairly good guess.  He even – grudgingly, and only mentally – agreed with Yokuzoma-sensei on something.

Kijou was good for him.

**************************

Okay, first of all, I would like to issue a public plea that no one kill me.  Especially Blah.  I'm sensing a lot of frustration from her.  And probably from the rest of you too.  So, let me remind you – the flashback scene is almost done.  There's still a few chapters left – but I am not, for any reason, going to let this drag on for any more than ten more chapters.  After that, the writing will be – hopefully – easier (_see:_ faster).  Yay.

**Lychee2: Yes.  Damn that hideously annoying "Real Life."  And there is a purpose in Katsu and Kijou getting together (And yes, it is so that Aoshi can kick her ass.  But he will only be helping in the rescue, not carrying it out.  And there will be no sex afterwards.  A kiss is even a little iffy.)  *pries Lychee off her leg*  How do you expect me to write with you clinging?**

**blah****: Yes.  Many evil things in the near future.  But they are not evil in a good way.  It will be bad.  That's all I'm saying.  *repeats prior plea for mercy***

**Kuroiyousei****: YES!  YAY FOR BLACK BELT!!  Ahem.  Right.  _Any_ways …. Katsu's first instinct was only partly right, actually.  Really, the only thing he got right was "spoiled" and "to be ignored/avoided."  But, then again, that's enough.  (And if you've seen so many relationships like this, then that means you can help me figure out how the hell to write it, right?  Goooooooood.)**


	60. 60

Kijou felt like snarling.  She didn't, because snarling caused unpleasing wrinkles in her otherwise perfect skin, but the desire was there all the same.  Katsu was intelligent and interesting and attractive and _what the hell was wrong with him?!_

Nothing … but … but …

"But" was a very uncertain word.  Kijou hated it.  Everything was going exactly as planned with Katsu, except that it wasn't.  If things had been going exactly as they should have, Katsu would have been hers months ago.  As it was, she was barely sure of her grip on him.  Not that she'd admit that to anyone.

Kijou glared – not at anything in particular, just a general, garden-variety, eat-shit-and-die glare – and stalked around her room.  Katsu was proving stubbornly his own person, and it frustrated her.  If she could only get Katsu to depend on her for a few days, then she'd have him for life … but at the rate things were going, a few _hours_ would be a miracle.

She caught a glimpse of her face in a mirror (a very expensive import from England, probably one of maybe ten of it's like in Tokyo), and frowned at it. Then, seeing the unsightly furrows this formed, she smoothed he expression, and spent the nest few minutes looking at her face from all angles.  When she was done, Kijou pursed her lips in grim satisfaction.  For once, her own reflection brought her very little pleasure – not when it failed to work on Katsu like it had every other young male she had met.  That thought stayed in her mind, souring until, eventually, her control broke and Kijou snarled at her reflection, flinging out her hands and narrowly missing breaking the precious glass.  She flounced over to the expensive, Western-style chair in her room and – gracefully – flopped on it.  

How, how, _how on Earth could she get Katsu to slip for those crucial few days?  She slumped further down into the soft, high chair, and pondered the possible ways she could get what she wanted._

How?

*************************************

Hmm.  You know what?  I'm going to stop even trying to promise some semblance of schedule for this.  I'll work on it as hard as I can until I'm caught up, or until I'm finished.  As I'm not even sure how far behind I am anymore, it'll more likely be the latter.  And actually, you're lucky you got this.  I had to write it twice, as my computer is a piece of shit and randomly freezes, sometimes RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF SAVING THIS $%^*$ THING!

Anyways.  Hey – at least it was longer than a third of a page.  ¾, actually, if I'm getting my measurements right.  There are only a handful of chapters left in the flashback (thank GOD), so that's one thing to look forward to.

**Kuroiyousei****: :P**

**Lychee2: Yes … and "at the time."  This flashback thing seemed like a good idea "at the time" too.  ;)**

**blah****: I'll have you know that belt represents _years of pain and improvement.  Don't diss the belt.  I luv the belt.  After the flashback, I'm hoping to get more into the Saitou/Sano part of this … but you never know, really._**

**Sunrise**** (& Sunset): um … that's uh … well … it's good to see you have friends … scary as they may be … ^_^  I'm glad you like this, and I will try to update more often … but no promises.  I'd rather not make them than break them.**


	61. 61

            SERIOUS HUGE MAJOR WARNING!!  THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS DISTURBINGLY GRAPHIC AND VIOLENT IMAGERY!! DON'T READ IT IF YOU CAN'T TAKE IT, AND DON'T GO CRYING TO ANYONE EITHER!!  I'M NOT PLAYING AROUND HERE!!  THIS IS YOUR ABSOLUTE LAST WARNING!!  THE 'R' IS THERE FOR A REASON, AND THAT REASON IS THIS CHAPTER.

There.  Consider yourself warned.

************************************

Katsu walked into his and Yokuzoma-sensei's house, far more cheerful than he had been in past memory.  He was sure that the old lady who sold him their vegetables had giggled at his back as he was walking away, and his face was actually starting to hurt from all the unaccustomed smiling.

The smile didn't last too long, though.  There was … rather too much blood in the room to allow for smiling on the part of most sane people.

The entire room was covered in blood – a clotting crimson stain that fell somewhere between the "sticky" and the "curdled" categories.  There were other little details, too: here a brownish stain and a clump of gore, there a morsel of severed flesh, too mutilated to exactly define – but mostly, Katsu noticed the blood.  It was … everywhere.  On the floor, on the furniture, on the walls and, as he stood there in a disbelieving stupor, a drop fell from the ceiling with a thick suction sound. Katsu didn't bother to look up.

Mechanically, he began to pick a trail through the carnage, still clutching the cloth bag with its few turnips and radishes that were to be today's meal.  He couldn't drop that bag – the vegetables would fall in the blood and be ruined, and they would have nothing to eat.  Yokuzoma-sensei would be angry.  That was the only thought in Katsu's head then – don't drop the bag.  If you drop the bag, Yokuzoma-sensei will be angry.  As long as you don't drop the bag, everything will be alright.

Just … don't … drop it.

Katsu followed the trail of blood and assorted fleshy bits, noting in an abstract way when it branched out to include the occasional clump of hair, and once, something that looked like a part of an eye.  He glanced inside his room when the trail passed it, and found that while it hadn't been spared total destruction, there was very little blood.  The same was true for the kitchen – as a matter of fact, the blood was thinning out.  Well, that was to be expected.  A living thing only has so much blood to bleed, after all.

Eventually, Katsu stopped in front of Yokuzoma-sensei's room, and looked in.

In the stillness of the little house, the sound of one bag falling was disgustingly loud, and less obtrusive rumble of a radish rolling away was mere insult upon an already grievous injury.

It wasn't the blood.  There wasn't much blood really – but Katsu almost wished there was.  Blood, at least, would have hidden most of the … damage.  Enough to give Katsu a peace of mind he would never have again.

The corpse dangling from the ceiling of the room was definitely that of Yokuzoma-sensei – the face had been largely untouched, in defiance to the brutal defilement of the rest of the body.  Ribs gaped open in an obscene parody of a welcoming embrace, glistening with pink and brown stains.  The legs and arms were ragged, pathetic stumps, and now Katsu knew where the fleshy part of the trail had come from.  What remained of them were strips of skin and muscle desperately clinging to broken, protruding ends of bones.  Wrapped around the neck and tied to a beam in the ceiling wasn't rope, just intestines – the excess hung down into a coil on the floor.  That was probably the liver stuffed in the mouth, and most likely his stomach there, cleaved in two pieces on the floor and adding color to the room.  A sort of lumpy, greenish, yellow-purple color, but color all the same.  Those shreds hanging in the space where the ribs were looked to be what was left of the lungs, and there was no sign of the heart.  However … "largely untouched" does not classify as "untouched," and there were a few … modifications … to the face.  The eyes had been removed, for example – though, one had been replaced.  If carving a hole in the forehead and sticking the eye in there could be considered replacing …

There were a thousand more details that Katsu could have named off, and he did.  He memorized the scene before him, burned it into his eyes so it would never leave.  Just like he had done with Sagara-taichou's headless corpse, before the Meji bastards had buried it in a shallow, unmarked grave on the side of some road.  Just like then.  He couldn't help but compare the two scenes, and ask what he had done in his past life, that he deserved to have every father he was willing to give the name to taken away.

He didn't hear the gasp as someone came in the open door, the rapid footsteps, or the frantic calls for his name.  He didn't even feel it when hands pulled him away, turned his head from the gruesome sight.  It didn't matter – they were too late.  He would not forget.  He would remember, until he died.

*****************************

Okay.  Before anyone kills me for this one, I'd like to ask you to not.  You won't get anything else that way.  And yes, I did have to do it.  I don't want to hear anything on that – I said I had to do it, I had to do it.  It's for the Plot.

Also, next week is exam week, and you guys know what that means.  I don't need to say anything else, do I?

**blah****: ugh.  Butterfly's terrible (remembered from her long-ago days of Swim Team).  And um … of course … ff.net doesn't send any such thing!  Why would you think that?  *whistles***

**Lychee2: Kijou's name was taken from "Kijo" which, according to Mr. Online Translator, means 1) she-devil, witch, demoness, ogress, 2) lady, you(fem), and 3) mechanism.  Guess which definition I used?  ;)  But yours was good too.  And it's impossible to guilt-trip me.  I have no shame.  ^___^**


	62. 62

Later, Katsu was told he had been insensible for more than a week.  Later, he found out how he hadn't said anything, not one single word for all that time he couldn't remember.  Later, they informed him of how he had been like a vegetable, a large doll, something that needed to be physically prompted to continue existing.

Later, later, later.

Now wasn't later, and Katsu didn't know any of that.  He didn't know anything much at all, really – just blood and bits of finely-chopped meat.  He'd never get the smell of blood out of his nostrils, though he did not, of course, know that.  He didn't even know it was the smell of blood.  Didn't know it was anything.  It just _was_.  Like the stuff they put in his mouth, like the thing that pressed against his back, like "they" themselves.

They weren't something, weren't anything.  They weren't even nothing.  They just were.

There was only one thing that wasn't, really.  Only one thing that was different.  It was a pity he had no idea what that was.

Tomorrow, he'd wake up, they said.  Tomorrow, or the next day.  Day after next at the latest.  But by tomorrow, he should be just fine.  Katsu heard them, but he didn't hear; nerves transmitting but nothing receiving, empty, empty knowledge in an information graveyard.  There was nothing wrong with his ears, or his eyes, or his nose, or his body, and everything wrong with his mind.

Tomorrow, they said – but when you don't even have today, tomorrow is an awfully long way away.  One might even remind themselves of that old, old adage: Tomorrow never comes.  One might – if one only had a self to remind.

***************************************

Yargh.  It's late and I'm tired, but this is done, so it might as well go up.  I _know it's short, so back off.  I had an extremely long book report I just did, and it made me cranky.  Piffle on you.  (and yes, I did just say "piffle")_

**Kuroiyousei****: Well … it was less of a slap and more of a friendly punch, really … ;).  And you _know I'm going to continue, though not with the dismembering and gore … quality writing is negotiable, however._**

**Lychee2: Poor Katsu indeed … *pats*  there, there.  You're not alone in your hatred.**

**Sunrise & Sunset: ... I don't know if I should say "thanks", or "keep the bloodthirsty one away from me."  So how's about I do both, eh?  And hopefully I _will_ be getting the chapters back onto some sort of reasonable schedule.  Knock on wood.**

**blah****: you want me to change the review back?  Sorry, no can do.  I was actually wondering if this might not be _too_ much for just an R rating (and, therefore, ff.net).  And uh … _yeah LotR is going to have less gore … it was only rated __PG-13.  And I still don't see why I should change my rating because a PG-13 movie has _less_ gore.  About the trouble you'd get in … how often do your parents look at what you're reading on the internet?  The ratings in ff.net are hard to notice if you're just glancing at the page, which is usually the most people do when they see someone else reading something on the Net._**


	63. 63

Katsu woke up, and found himself undeserted by memory.  It perched, iron-clad and undeniable on his chest, and dug bloody furrows into the few mental walls he had left.  Another time, another man, and maybe it would have broken him.  Had the ghastly remembrances waited to pounce until he was fully healed, there would likely have been no "maybe" about it.  But not now.  Now, it was … too much.

Katsu didn't try to deny anything, didn't tell his memories to take a long walk, or to jump in a river with a stone tied around its legs.  Neither did he cry, or ask why it had happened.  It had happened, and that was more than enough for him.  He was _tired_, down to the very last bone, and no one would let him sleep.  Katsu stared at his memories, stark and uncompromising in the light of early … consciousness … and realized that he didn't need to compromise with them.

Yokuzoma-sensei was dead.  By the amount of blood, he had been long in dying, and it had certainly not been a good death.  Sagara-taichou was dead too, with no more honor to his circumstances.  They were all dead – the Sekihoutai, who had been a second family to him; his _first family, though he didn't remember much of them; and now Yokuzoma-sensei.  They were all dead, and nothing could change that.  He could fight the obvious, or accept it – and right now, he was far too tired to put up any kind of a fight._

So Katsu accepted it.  The memories did not wane, nor did they die: they were still there, still heavy on his chest, waiting to pounce.  If anything, they were fresher, more vivid now that he was not trying to deny their existence.  The difference was that now, Katsu didn't see the point in crying over them.  He was tired of crying, and tired of dying, but of the two, he only had control over one.

The door slid open then, and Katsu unconsciously turned his head to see who it was.  Thus, he managed to catch the look of real surprise – and happiness – that came over Kijou's face when she saw he was awake before she composed her mien into one more proper.

"You wouldn't … happen to have any water, would you?"  Katsu managed a weak smile, though his throat (and voice) rasped like a dry wind.  "I am … unbearably thirsty."

She smiled back, murmured an affirmative, and went to fill his request.  Katsu settled his head back onto the pillow, and stared at the ceiling.

He was _quite done with crying._

**************************

Hmmm.  You know, I could have sworn I was going to get this done last Friday.  It's not even that long, compared to the last couple chapters.  Well … next one's coming out by next Friday, at least.  Maybe sooner, if I'm feeling ambitious.  Don't get your hopes up, though.  And, at the last count, there were four or five more chapters of flashback to go.  Yay.

**Kuroiyousei: Glad you like it!**

**blah****: well … forward the teenage revolution!  You'll be fine, unless your parents routinely read all the webpages you visit.  ^_^**

**Lychee2: piffle piffle piffle.  It is fun.  Unlike _this chapter too, I'll bet.  And you're not alone … I think everyone hates Kijou.  I know I do.  :)_**

**Strider: you bug me nearly every day to update, and harass me until I write, and frequently talk to me about the chapter I wrote, or at least mention some events in the latest chapter occasionally … but no, I had no idea you were still reading every one.  You know what?  You just made my day.  Gimmie a hug.  And why on earth would I have Saitou kill her when I can make Aoshi do it?  Or even Katsu himself … though that wouldn't help him much.  Nah, back to Aoshi.  Katsu can function because he's superman, duh.  :D  Or maybe I'm just a very very very persuasive writer … okay, fine, he really _is Superman.  :P_**


	64. 64

Katsu was painting.  He wasn't quite sure what the painting was going to turn out as, but that didn't bother him much.  He painted better when he didn't know.  It was easier when he wasn't trying for specifics.  Kijou had asked him why he didn't just paint what he _wanted_ to paint, instead of whatever came out, and Katsu had explained to her, carefully and simply.  When he fixed a specific image in his head, the painting on paper never turned out as good as the image in his head.  If he concentrated more on the _act_ of painting, and not the definite result, then he had very little expectations, and wasn't disappointed with the finished result.

She hadn't understood.

That was alright with Katsu – she didn't have to understand everything he did.  Yokuzoma-sensei had understood, but Yokuzoma-sensei had been an artist too.  It had been Yokuzoma-sensei who had first told Katsu not to expect other people to understand, and not to really bother trying to make them understand.  It was something you only understood if you were an artist, he had always said.  If you understood it, you needed no explanation, and if you didn't, all the explanations in the world couldn't make you.

He'd said as much to Kijou, but she hadn't appreciated it.  It was sweet, really, how close she wanted to be to him.  Katsu was touched – more than touched – but there were just some things that didn't need to be shared.  Some things were only for Katsu – and besides, Kijou was already closer to him than all but three people had ever been in his life.  That was another thing he didn't share with Kijou – no matter how he put it, she would never be happy with being told point-blank that she only ranked fourth place.

Katsu wanted Kijou to be happy.  She had already made him happier than he had been in a long time – why would he not want to return the favor?

Katsu smiled, and kept painting – noting in an offhand way that it was going to be a painting of foxes.

*********************************

Well.  Everyone who was waiting for this to come out, go over and visit Kuroiyousei's site, and tell her what a wonderful author she is, because she's the one who got me out of my slump.  There will be a new policy regarding my responses to all your lovely reviews, because the way I've been doing it so far is just impractical.  Responding to review is easily the most time-consuming part of the posting process, and while I haven't timed it, it would be a safe bet to say that it takes a minimum of half an hour to respond to everyone's review.  That's a half hour earlier I could have had the chapter up.  So, starting now, I will respond to reviews via private emails, unless you leave me no way of contacting you, or the review is of such nature that it demands a public response.  And I would really appreciate it if you just left me an address – it means a longer response, and it'll be a lot easier for me.  Okay?

….. and, since none of you guys left me an email address last time, I'll have to do it all the old way ….. 

**Sunrise**** and Sunset:** It's okay that you didn't review last time; everyone skips a few chapters here and there.  Just so long as you review occasionally.  ^__^  And thanks for the MoD … but I like my reviewers, and there isn't enough of them yet that I have to keep the back.  On the other hand ….. *bonks A LOT of sense into Sunset*  better?

**dragoneyes****: **yup, this is all Kijou alright.  Well, someone she hired.  And, as I will point out later, she really does care about Katsu, and I'd even go so far as to say she loves him … she's just so warped and twisted she has a strange way of showing this.  As will also be expressed again later.  That straightjacket will be appreciated as soon as you can get it to me, though.  ^__^

**blah****: **The end destination for this story?  Gettin' Katsu and Aoshi in the sack, of course.  I thought that was obvious.  :D  And, you'll be happy to know, we're almost finished with the flashback, and from there it will immediately go into the arc that will end the story.  So, we're getting there.  And, you are strangely accurate in your guess of what happened, as I have been hacking up phlegm for about three weeks now.  Oh, and, do you know what miso soup looks like?  Because that's what my puke looked like today.  Yes, you did need to know that.  :P


	65. 65

Katsu was painting again.  His last painting, the fox one, had so delighted Kijou that she had hung it up on her wall and refused to part with it.  She hadn't asked him specifically, but she had made a few subtle hints that she would like a similar one, and he was humoring her.

Where was the harm, anyways?  It was only when he tried to paint a _specific_ scene that his talent failed him, and "something with foxes" was hardly specific.  He'd done much more for the few commissions Yokuzoma-sensei had turned over to him, and they had still turned out alright.

Kijou wanted to watch him paint.  It was something very important to him, she reasoned, and she wanted to know more about the things that were important to him.  So she would know if she had to be jealous of his paintings, as she sometimes teased him.  Katsu laughed and smiled at her, and told her that she need not fear anything, for while it was easy to love a painting, it was a bit less than reasonable to expect the painting to return that favor.

She had laughed, and left the topic at that, but Katsu still sensed she was a little miffed that he wouldn't let her watch.  But, well … what could he do?  She would get over it.

************************************************

Oh, I forgot.  I have a site now.  It is a very nice site, and it has stories that are not on ff.net, and are not likely to be on ff.net anytime soon. One extra RK fic, a Baldur's Gate fic, and then my PotC ones.  Original fics and poetry to come soon, as well as a possible LotR fic, once I get all that typed up.  The link is in my profile/bio page.


	66. 66

Kijou was watching him paint again.  Katsu sighed, and tried to ignore her.  He couldn't really remember when he had first finally agreed to let her sit in on one of his painting sessions, fed up with the only argument they had ever had, but it didn't seem to matter anyways.  She was fascinated by the entire process, but – thankfully – didn't ask too many questions.  Katsu was irked enough that he probably would have responded harshly, and then he would regret that later.

It wasn't, Katsu rationed, that he had any solid reason to not want Kijou to watch him paint.  It was just a gut feeling for him, one he'd always had – one Yokuzoma-sensei had always understood.  Painting was a private thing.  It was precious.  Not to be shared.

Kijou wanted to share everything.

It was probably just him.  He was naturally a grouchy person, and it was probably unreasonable of him to keep Kijou from watching him paint.  It wasn't as if she was doing any harm.  No, Katsu knew he was being unreasonable, but he still wanted to have that little bit of selfishness that said he could want to paint however he damn well wanted to.  The conflict of interests had made him a bit snappy the past few days, and he was taking it out on his paintings rather than on Kijou.

For instance, he was about to do something unspeakable to that geisha who dared to look less than lovely in her kimono.

"Perhaps the blue?"

Katsu's head whipped around to Kijou, who had just spoken, and he barely refrained from growling a reply.  "Excuse me?"

"Perhaps …" Kijou ducked her head, looking demure and almost regretful that she had said anything.  Was he that intimidating?  Katsu tried to smooth out his body language, and was rewarded when Kijou immediately relaxed.  "I was merely thinking, perhaps she would look better in a blue kimono, rather than yellow.  It might suit her coloring better."

Katsu peered at the painting, and carefully changed the color of a small bit of the woman's kimono, near her face.  It did look better – much better.  He turned and beamed at Kijou.  "You are brilliant, darling."

She flushed, and murmured something to the negative, but Katsu wasn't listening.

It might not be so bad to have Kijou with him while he was painting, after all.

******************************************

Yes, here we are again.  Yay.  Hopefully I'm getting back on schedule.

**blah****:** Yes, painting is good, and I can see that you are hyper.  Do you think you could drop me a line with your email, or, if you're uncomfortable with making it public, send it to me?  It's just that responding to reviews like this is time-consuming, and I want to be able to get the chapters out faster, especially when I'm on a time limit, like tonight.  I don't want to be inconvenient for you, and make you stop reviewing, but I really would appreciate it.  I'll still respond to all your reviews, I'll just do it when I get them, and it will take much less time that way.


	67. 67

Katsu was painting.  He'd been doing that a lot recently – Kijou liked his paintings.  They made her happy.  Katsu wanted to do everything he could to make Kijou happy, especially because he seemed to have been doing such a bad job of it recently.  He frowned worriedly for a moment, trying to think of what he had done that could cause the coldness he had been sensing from his fiancée lately.  Then he decided not to worry about it, and concentrated on painting Kijou the best painting he had ever done.

Still, his treacherous thoughts kept interrupting, and Katsu almost wasn't sure he would be able to finish the painting.  It was worse now that Kijou wasn't here, like she normally was.  How could he be certain it would end up the best it could be if Kijou wasn't there to give him her normal advice?  Katsu chewed on his lip, and wondered if maybe he shouldn't stop early and go see Kijou.  His painting room was in the house, of course, but it was so big that he could be there, and Kijou in the bedroom, and it would feel like they were on separate sides of the city.

He sat there, not painting, not doing anything, and gave a start when he realized that he had gnawed his lip until he had drawn blood.  Reaching up a hand to catch the few drops, Katsu made up his mind.  He would go see Kijou.

The only thought on his mind as he cleaned out his brushes and packed up his paints was the hope that Kijou wouldn't be upset he had decided to stop painting earlier than he told her he would.

******************************

And the plot thickens, like gravy.  Remaining chapters in the flashback sequence from hell: 2.  Chapters until the fun bit can start: 2.  Are you sensing a good thing coming up?  Because one is.  Oh, and the email-reviews thing?  Forget about it.  Just forget I said anything about it.  But my site will be updated earlier than the ff.net one, conceivably by hours.  If you haven't reviewed, and aren't waiting for a response, you may want to start checking mainly there.  Of course, this doesn't mean you can't review through the site … far from it.  Just scroll down to the bottom of the page.  ^__^

**blah**: Ah.  So that's how it is.  Ah, well.  Doesn't matter, I guess.  Baldur's Gate is a computer game, based on the Forgotten Realms universe.  TSR.  Think Dungeons & Dragons.  That universe.

**kitiara_uth_matar****:  ***pounces on fresh meat—er—new reviewer*  Thank you for reviewing!  And … you read … this whole thing in 2 HOURS? …. O.o  Go you.  We're coming up on the end now, actually.  But then there will be the sequel.  Sooo … just plan on it never being _really_ over.  Ever.  ^__^

**Kuroiyousei:**  You, darling, are far too fond of using other people's words.  :P  Oh well.  I'll use yours soon enough.  You know which ones.  ;)


	68. 68

Katsu heard the noises before he ever even went upstairs, but he paid them no mind.  He heard them as he was walking down the hall, but again he ignored them.  He heard them standing outside the door, and dismissed them.  There were perfectly logical explanations for them, after all.  It may not so happen that he was able to _think_ of any at the time, but that really didn't bother him.  He didn't need to think so much any more – Kijou made sure of that.

And he loved her for it.

But then Katsu opened the door, and, while his ears were easily fooled, his eyes screamed that they did not lie.

Kijou was there of course, it was her room, after all, but she wasn't the only one there.  Another man, Katsu didn't know his name, but he had seen him often as of late.  Now he knew why.  Now he knew why Kijou had been ignoring him as of late – why go to Katsu when there is another perfectly willing to let you ride him to the ground, another's hands on your body, another's lips around your nipples?  Why go to Katsu at all?

He couldn't stop seeing.  Like with the Sagara-taichou and Yokuzoma-sensei, his eyes recorded long past the point when his mind was begging for an end.  But even if he closed his eyes, he knew, it wouldn't matter any.  The damage was done – another image burned into the backs of his eyes, another memory he would only wish he could forget.

What made it worse, what twisted the knife already buried in his heart, was that Kijou saw him.  He _knew_ she saw him – she had met his eyes as she thrust down and took that other, nameless man deep inside of her.  She'd seen Katsu and kept fucking the other man.  It made sense, really.

Heaven forbid that something so tiny as your lover walking in on you and your _other_ lover could actually get in the way of an orgasm.

Katsu turned – rather jerkily – and left the room, going to his own.  The one Kijou had insisted he have, even though he only ever used hers.  It all made sense now, everything.  Every tiny little discrepancy that he had let slip past him, they all came back, like a ton of bricks in the stomach.  Everything was so … so _obvious _now.  Including the way she had manipulated him.

Oh yes.  He saw it now, the way she had twisted his mind.  What he had become.  It made him sick, sick to his stomach, but at the same time he felt … relieved.  Not very much so, but enough.  It was enough to recognize the problem.  Next was getting out.  Next was a way to stop loving Kijou.

It was funny … he still did.  Love her, that is.  Maybe it was left over from the mental cage she had put around him, a cage that was rapidly evaporating.  Katsu shuddered as he thought of how close he had been to becoming a mindless drone, how very very close he had been to completely giving up his mind and soul to Kijou.  Oh well.  Reaching his room, Katsu began to pack his things.  He didn't know where he was going, but it had to be away from here.  If he stayed, if he looked at Kijou just one more time – just one more time – it would be the end of him, and he knew it.  Even one more glimpse would send him back, tail between his legs.  Just one look would give him back to her.

So, he had better not take that one look.

It was funny, Katsu remarked, how suddenly this happened.  Not even ten minutes ago, the only thought on his mind had been a faint worry that Kijou might be upset with him.  Now, he was leaving her.  And he was not planning on ever coming back.  It was a bit hard to believe, really, that a few seconds had been all it took to change from one to the other.

"Katsu?"

He froze.  There was no mistaking that voice, there never would be, but Katsu was still amazed she had come to look for him this quickly.  It was a twisted sort of compliment, in a way.

"Katsu, what are you doing?"  He heard her moving toward him, but he couldn't move.  Like a deer about to be shot, he thought faintly.  Exactly like.  Then he heard her sigh.  "Oh Katsu, really?  Melodramatics just aren't you.  What do you thing you're doing?"  He felt her hand against his arm, light and greasy and by the heavens, had her nails always been so clawlike, and he flinched away.

"Don't … don't touch me."  He couldn't bring himself to say her name.  She kept trying to look at him, but he kept turning away.  "Just … don't.  Touch.  Me."

"Katsu?  Katsu, darling, why are you acting like this?"

She didn't know.  She honestly didn't know.  She didn't see that anything was wrong.  It was like a bucket of ice water to Katsu's face, allowing him the clarity to move on for a few more moments.  Maybe enough to get away.  Maybe not.

"I thought you loved me," Katsu whispered, almost too softly to be heard.

"Is that all this is about?"  Kijou laughed, a bit incredulously, and didn't see how Katsu stiffened even more with every word she spoke.  "Of course I do, Katsu dear … but you've just been so _boring_ lately …"  By then, she noticed that something was wrong, but it was too late.

"You bitch."  It was spoken just as quietly as the statement before it had been, quietly enough that Kijou was _sure_ her ears had been mistaken.

"Excuse me, Katsu?  _What_ did you just say?"  There was a dangerous note in her voice, but Katsu was past caring now, past danger now.  He ploughed on ahead, recklessly, not caring a whit about what Kijou said, for the first time in he-couldn't-remember-how-long.  It felt good.

"I said," he repeated, a strange feeling creeping into him as he spoke.  It was a wild feeling, a senseless feeling, a feeling that made him want to jump off a bridge to see how high it was.  It ran over any remaining desire to stay, crushed it and mangled it like Yokuzoma-sensei had been mangled all that time ago.  The bridges had been burned, and all that was left was to see that no new ones were built.  "You.  Bitch.  Would you like me to say it again, once more, for posterity?"

"Wh-why … you … I …"  Kijou actually _stuttered_, the first time in living memory Katsu could recall her doing such a thing.  It was quite amusing, really – she looked like a gasping fish.  Katsu pushed past her, his things all in a bag over his shoulder – it was amazing how little in the way of personal effects he had accumulated over the years.  And it was amazing how fast a person could walk and still not be running.

"K-katsu!"  Kijou called, finally regaining her equilibrium.  "Katsu where do you think you're going?"

"Away," he called back, already at the door.  "Away from you!"

"Oh really," Kijou sneered, hurrying after him.  "And just what do you think you'll do there, hmm?  How will you get by – you know you need me to survive!"

"No, Kijou, that's where you're wrong."  He finally turned around, facing her, and was amazed to feel … nothing.  No, not quite nothing: there was a bit of fear, anxiousness, and he wanted nothing more than to run.  There was also, much to his terror, still a speck of love there, still a part of him that cringed to see her unhappy.  There was a part of him that wanted nothing more to set down the bag and take her back in his arms and say that everything was alright, that he wasn't going anywhere, that he forgave her. But … there was the catch, wasn't there?  He didn't forgive her – yes, that was something Yokuzoma-sensei and Sagara-taichou before him had remarked upon: Katsu wasn't one to forgive easily.  He closed his eyes and remembered how she looked as she – damnit, he could say it – as she _fucked_ that other man, remembered every sly comment that had completely washed over him at the time.  It didn't _destroy_ the love he had for her just … numbed it.  Pushed it away, for long enough that he could do what he was about to do, say what he was about to say.  "I never needed you Kijou, and I don't need you now.  But I thank you most sincerely for finally making me realize that."

"But … Katsu …" she looked at him with lost eyes, and he knew if he allowed even one moment of pity, it would be over.  "I … I love you."

"I don't."  If a human voice could get any colder or curter than his had just been, he would have been surprised.  Katsu watched a few tears well up in her eyes with something close to satisfaction, though the back of his head was screaming for making her cry.  He knew it wouldn't last; the danger wasn't past yet – if he didn't leave soon, she'd revert back to her normal self, and he'd be lost.  "I'm going now Kijou.  I'd say farewell, but you'll understand if I hope you don't."

And with that, he walked out of the door of Kijou's mansion, never to walk in again.

********************

Yay.  Finally got it done – and lookie!  Four pages!  I'm so proud.  Took me long enough, anyways.  But, this is also a milestone chapter in other ways: the flashback is now officially over.  Everyone dance.

**Blahb****:** *pats on back*  And yes, I have thickened gravy many times … which is why I used that analogy.  ^_^

**JamBLAHaiah****:** *giggles*  What esteemed company I keep … though I must admit I don't know of dead author #2.  ^__^  I hope you're happier now ………

(You don't happen to be blah##, do you?)


	69. 69

The next day dawned bright, clear, and obscenely cheerful.  Normally, this alone would have been enough to send Katsu, a committed twilight-person, back into his dark room, grumbling profanities and drinking strong tea while working on some project or another until the day darkened to something more decently gloomy.  However, this was not a normal day, and Katsu was awake and functioning _far_ earlier than was normal, or probably even healthy.

He'd never believed that it might feel so _good_ to just _tell_ someone.  Katsu thought about that for a moment, then snorted softly.  He'd never believed he'd _ever_ tell anyone.  But it did feel very good – quite remarkably so.  His face was probably going to hurt in a little while, though, from all the smiling.

It was a beautiful day, too – odd that the weather would match his mood so perfectly.  Katsu smiled more, and felt unused muscles stretch in his face.  A whiff of scent caught his attention, and he turned around sharply.  Yes, there it was again …

Katsu followed his nose to a tiny, secluded little store, almost hidden underneath the awnings on the side of the street.  Obviously, it was not the appearance of the place that attracted most of its customers.  Equally obvious was what _did_:  daifukumochi, his favorite, arranged on pieces of rice paper, and the source of that mouth-watering scent that had drawn Katsu off the main street.  As arrangements went, it wasn't the best, rating perhaps a six out of ten possible credits – but again, when one encountered digestible ecstasy, one did not complain because the ecstasy was not wrapped elaborately folded fancy paper and tied with a silk ribbon.

Katsu bought three, and mourned that his current search for living space insisted he could not buy any more.  Katsu walked out of the dingy little alley, eating his treats at varying speeds:  the first, he had inhaled;  the second, he was eating at a more normal pace;  the third, he intended to savor.  He started walking down the street again, not specifically looking for anything, but generally keeping his eye out, for the instance that someone should, of a sudden, run out into the crowd, yelling his intention to sell a house.  The second daifukumochi had been finished, and Katsu was licking a spot of sweet bean jam off of his finger before starting the third when he felt someone come up behind him.

"Katsu!"

He turned, looking for the voice, and found it to be belonging to a rather large, disreputable-looking man, whom Katsu had never seen before in his life.  He opened his mouth to reply, but the large man continued on, talking over him.

"Oh, drunk again, Katsu?  You shouldn't drink so much, you know."  By now, the man had reached Katsu, and Katsu would have taken a step back (tried to), but the man draped a "companionable" arm around his shoulders that felt like nothing more than a vise.

"I'm not –" Katsu began to protest, beginning what he already knew would be a futile struggle to be free, when the man shifted just so, so that no one saw his next movement:  a firmly ungentle tap to the base of Katsu's skull.  Katus's eyes rolled back into his head, and he sagged limply against the man.  To any observer (and there were some, but only a few), it would seem as though Katsu had passed out drunk in the middle of asserting that he was not – a common enough occurrence in this part of town that, of the few observers, most stopped paying attention at that point.

For the benefit of the very few left, the man said, with an audible mutter of "he's _always _doing this …" and made a show of draping Katsu's arm over his shoulders and half-carrying, half-dragging down the street.  By the time he turned the corner, no one was paying either of them any attention whatsoever.

sigh  Okay.  This chapter took me forever to write, and in the end I didn't even write it.  I wrote chapters 70 through 74, and then bumped them all down a number, so 70 became 69 and so on.  And to think I could have done it so much earlier ……. I truly am sorry.  ON THE POSITIVE SIDE, I can now give you an accurate countdown to the end.  Let's see … right now, there are **18** chapters left.

Blah, Faery … I love you both for sticking with this and reviewing every chapter all the time.  So much love for you both.

Shizukashin, you will be granted five dozen willing love slaves when I finally manage to take over the world. 


	70. 70

Katsu hadn't come back.

Again.

Sano paced impatiently and looked out on the street every two minutes, looking for a familiar silhouette coming up the path.  _Jus' a few more minutes,_ he said to himself.  _Jus' a few more minutes, 'n then I'll go in.  Jus' a few more minutes._

The lucky thing about "in a bit" was that it was exactly like "tomorrow" in at least one respect: it never came.  Soon enough – and it _was_ soon, because it couldn't have been more than an hour or two, but _that_ was wrong too, because Katsu had been gone for _hours_, multiple, as in many, and somewhere, somehow, that didn't add up quite the way it should have – it was dark, and lanterns replaced the sun as his source of lighting. 

That Aoshi man was there too, standing quietly in the shadows, but otherwise making no move to hide himself, and Sano realized he was probably there for the same reason he had been last time – to make sure he didn't do anything "stupid."  Sano frowned.  It was ridiculous, really – why did they always have to assume that he, Sano, would do something "stupid" just because his best friend (well, maybe not his best _best_ friend, because there was, after all Kenshin, but Katsu had been around for _years_ before Kenshin, and Katsu knew Sagara-taichou, and Katsu had been with the Sekihoutai, and Katsu had been _Katsu_, but just call them even and be done with it) hadn't come home?

Sano growled, a growl that was abruptly cut off as he stumbled and had to right himself, or fall flat on his face right in front of Aoshi.  He caught himself easily, but it didn't seem to matter, as the man suddenly appeared near him anyways.

"Look, I don't need any—" Sano began to growl, but was caught off when the damn ninja interrupted without really seeming to.

"You are falling asleep on your feet, Sagara.  You need rest."  Sano was skewered with a green-eyed gaze that was almost as sharp as that sword had been, when there had been a wolf on the other end.  Then, in what Sano would swear was a miracle, those frozen chips melted just the slightest bit, and Aoshi added, in a somewhat softer tone, "I will wait for your friend, if you wish."

"Y' … well …"  Sano sighed, feeling exhaustion smack into him a thousand times harder than that Shishio bastard ever had, and – reluctantly – gave into the inevitable.  "Would ya?"

Aoshi bowed his head, and it was a measure of Sano's exhaustion that he thought he saw a ghost of a smile flicker across those thin lips.  "I will.  Now," the eyes were frozen again, and that almost smile had _definitely_ been an illusion.  "You must sleep."

"Y-yeah," Sano turned to the dojo, stumbling slightly again.  "Yeah … you … you wait for him, y' hear me, ninja-man?  You … you wait for him."  He stumbled up into the dojo, not bothering to wait for Aoshi's response to his mumbled threat.

In the dark, Aoshi turned around, and sat on the steps so he faced the road.  His eyes closed for a moment, then opened again.  He knew there was no one to hear, but that did not matter.

"I will."

This seem familiar to anyone?    **17** chapters left.


	71. 71

Sano was not hyperventilating.  No matter what Jou-chan and the weasel girl said.  He wasn't.  He was just … worried.  It was perfectly rational for him to be worried, after all.  Katsu had been gone all day yesterday, and hadn't come back in the night, and he didn't have anywhere else to be because Katsu had no friends, so something had _obviously_ happened to him and best case scenario was that he was lying naked in a gutter somewhere after being beaten and robbed by a group of thugs, and that was only if he was _lucky_, oh god he was probably unconscious face down in the mud somewhere _bleeding to death_ because no one could help him because the only person in the world who wanted to help him was currently being _physically restrained_ in the house of his so-called "friends" because _they thought he was hyperventilating!_

Which he _obviously_ wasn't.  It was just –

"Ah, Sano?  I have some information you may want to hear, that you might.  About Tsukioka-san."

Sano whirled around sharply, not even noticing that Aoshi had let go of him and stepped forward at the same time he had.  "Kenshin?"

The words were remarkably calm, coming out of Kenshin's mouth.  Sano knew that that was alright, that Kenshin didn't know Katsu very well, that Katsu preferred it that way, that Kenshin had no personal stake in it besides the welfare of a friend of a friend, that he shouldn't mind so much.  He did anyways.

"Some people saw him in the market, that they did.  They saw a large man come up to him, about so much taller than you Sano," Kenshin held his hands about five inches apart, and Sano frowned.  Kenshin continued, "He acted very friendly, and accused Tsukioka-san of drunkenness, that he did..  The man reached Tuskioka-san, and a few moments later he – Tsukioka san – collapsed onto him – drunk, it seemed.  No one paid much attention after that, that they did not.

"That's bullshit!"  Sano clenched his fist and tried hard not to punch any holes in anything.  "Katsu doesn't get drunk – a bit tipsy, once or twice a year, **maybe**, but he never gets **drunk!**  Not enough to pass out in the middle of the street.  And he .." Sano hissed.  "Shit, this sounds really bad, but he doesn't have any other friends besides me, either.  Contacts, and people who owe him money, yeah, but not any other **friends** – he just **doesn't**!"

By now Sano was gnawing his lip and pacing, agitation clear in every line of his body.  He didn't even notice that neither Jou-chan nor Aoshi had said a word since Kenshin had come in and, in the case of the ninja, hadn't moved either.  Sano spun around again and looked at Kenshin with agony in his eyes.

"Something bad happened to him, Kenshin – **is** **happening** to him.  Something real bad.  I … I think he was just kidnapped."

"I think I might have an idea who did it."

Aoshi's voice was so sudden, so unexpected in the somber silence that had fallen after Sano's proclamation that both Sano and Kaoru started before turning to him – Kaoru's eyes wide with surprise, Sano's narrowing into suspicion.  Aoshi ignored it.

"Katsuhiro has given me enough reason to believe this might be the work of a woman named Tatamitsu Kijou …"

AND THE TRUTH COMES OUT.  maniacal laughter

ahem  Yes, well, anyways.

**16 **chapters left.


	72. 72

Katsu woke up slowly, unwillingly.  This is perfectly reasonable – when you've been knocked unconscious by a total stranger, it's highly unlikely that you will wake up to something you want to see.

Unfortunately, this was entirely correct.

Katsu woke up to Kijou.

She met his terrified gaze with a sunny smile.  "Katsu!  Oh, Katsu … I've missed you _so much!_  And this time, you won't run away, will you?"  She laughed delightedly.  "I won't let you!  Isn't that nice?"  She beamed again, and Katsu couldn't work through the terrified gibbering of his mind long enough to do anything but faint.

OO  So short.  Just like the good old days.  None of these "interlude" chapters are going to be very long, FYI.

**15** chapters left.


	73. 73

_Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck shit fuck shit fuck shit fuck shit fuck shit fuck shit damnit fuck shit damnit fuck shit damnit …_

_"DAMNIT FUCKING **SHIT**!"___

Sano was very, very, very angry.  Angry that some fucking psycho bitch had taken Katsu away jus' cause she had a crush on him.  Angry that Katsu hadn't told him about her.  Angry that Katsu _had_ told Aoshi.  Angry that he couldn't do anything besides pace in the dojo until Jou-chan kicked him out, and then pace in the courtyard and swear.  Angry that he wanted to hit something.  Angry that there was nothing to hit.

"It's good to know you are expanding your vocabulary, ahou, but don't you think looking for your friend might be a higher priority?"

And now there _was_ something to hit.  Amazing.  Now if only it would stay still ….

Sano turned around slowly, grinding his teeth hard enough that he was vaguely surprised they hadn't cracked yet.  "What do you want, bastard?"

The cop stood there, in all his narrow-eyed, cricket-like glory, casually smoking.  He took an especially long drag as Sano watched, the smoke curling out from his mouth and nostrils making him look like nothing more than a two-legged, blue dragon.

"What I want?"  The tall man gave an appropriately wolfish grin.  "_I_ want to arrest a rich, corrupt "businesswoman," who deals in drugs, illegal firearms, and hired thugs, and is personally responsible for almost as many assassinations as a Bakumatsu hitokiri.  She also seems to have recently added kidnapping to her list of crimes.  Unfortunately, to arrest her I need some evidence that I can _reveal_, so I suppose I also want to see if the Battousai and perhaps the Okashira of the Oniwabanshuu would care to assist."  Saitou tapped the ash off of his cigarette, looking contemplative, before giving Sano a sardonic baring of teeth that made him want to hit something even more.  "I suppose you can come along as well, if you wish.  _Ahou_."

"You … you …" Sano was shaking with the effort of not attacking the cop, and so barely heard the footsteps coming up behind him.  The firm hand on his shoulder, though, he was aware of, as well as the slight pressure that could very obviously become greater if given reason to.  Sano looked aside to see Aoshi, with a strange expression on his face.  Strange, Sano realized, because it was there at all.

"Wha …" was all Sano managed to get out before the crazy ninja spoke, his voice sounding tight and … emotional?

"You have information?"  It was barely a question, skirting on an order.  Had anyone else said it, it would have been considered emotionless and distant, but coming from _Aoshi_ it was damn near unbelievable.

Saitou took another contemplative puff on his cigarette before answering.  "I have information."

"Then we will aid."  A nod, a sharp turn, and Sano was left, stunned, in the courtyard while the other two men walked into the dojo.  He shook his head slowly, and didn't know if it was in denial, or to clear it of confusion.

"What …"  His throat caught – he cleared it, and said again, "What the hell just happened here?"

We could tell him, but that would spoil our fun, right? 

**14** chapters left.


	74. 74

Katsu wondered if it was possible to be furious and terrified at the same time. Obviously, _he_ was, so obviously, it _was_ possible … perhaps just not very desirable, then. Or pleasant. Perhaps it would be a bit more bearable, he thought, if he wasn't tied up and gagged.

Honestly – a man tries to escape the clutches of an evil, psychopathic, controlling bitch _once_, and suddenly there's no trusting him.

"Mmmm-mg-mlf!" _Untie me, bitch!_ That was what he meant to say, of course. Judging from the sickly sweet smile that graced Kijou's face as she put down her mirror and turned to him, that wasn't exactly how it came out.

"You love me? Oh _Katsu_, I knew you did! I knew it." Her eyes were sparkling with – tears? It was a classic Kijou gesture, meant to emphasize her vulnerability and femimnity. Katsu couldn't believe he'd ever fallen for something so contrived. No, his tastes _definitely_ ran to someone stronger, more intelligent, less emotional, less … _female._

…

Katsu blinked, stunned to immobility as the Large Heavy Object of Realization hit him between the Eyes of Inattention. Kijou was still speaking, however, and her latest words filtered through his – unwilling – conscious.

"… just _knew_ you still loved me! Couldn't imagine how you wouldn't – that other woman must have brainwashed you to think you didn't … of course _I_ still love you. I always have." That last was said in a lower (and presumably seductive) voice, while Kijou leaned forward, giving Katsu a good look down her kimono.

He couldn't help it: he recoiled – mainly with revulsion, but partly disbelief. From the way Kijou's expression darkened, and how she drew back and pulled her kimono to her as if affronted, it was the wrong thing to do.

"Oh. I see." Kijou glared at him from where she knelt, just out of arm's reach of him (discounting the fact that his arms were currently tied behind his back). "So she still has you, the bitch? Well, that doesn't matter. I love you, Katsu. I love you, and you love me. You just don't remember it – but that doesn't matter either. You'll stay here until you do."

Katsu's eyes widened and he mumbled frantically though his gag. _What the hell are you talking about, "other woman?"_ he wanted to ask. _What kind of opium are you taking?_ _And why aren't you going to at least get rid of the gag?_

But the tightly-packed cloth in his mouth prevented anything coherent from leaving his mouth, and Kijou ignored him anyways. The door slid shut behind her with a _thunk_ that was far too loud for common sense, and Katsu was alone in the dark.

* * *

Again.

Hoookay, long chapter, and one I'm rather fond of. However, not much to say other than **13** chapters left! Onto the reviews!

**Kuroiyousei: 70;** Careful with that overdosing. Do it too often and you die, and then you can't have any anymore. :P **71;** you know, I think you have … once … or twice … a minute. **72;** Yes, he _is_. **73; **I don't think I need to give you any encouragement, but I believe the phrase to use here is "bite me." **74; I** _am_ the best, aren't I? :D

**blah**: Awww … .I'm sorry I made you think I was dead. I made up for it, didn't I? And uh … the guy literally _died_? Or just … stopped updating .......... …………………. Oo Well … _that_ makes me feel better ………. gulp

**Lychee2:** allows you to prostrate yourself at my feet And I didn't make you wait so long this time, did I? there's a baker's dozen chapters left, and I have the framework written out for _all_ of them … I'm not about to fall off the wagon _now_.

**shizukashin****:** No, it does not end with Katsu dying. It actually has a fairly mushy and sappy-sweet fluffy ending. So it'll die as it (sorta) lived. But … because I'm evil ... s_omeone_ dies, yes. Just not Katsu.


	75. What happened, and a bonus!

**What The Hell Happened, or Where Alet Was**

I am NOT, repeat NOT dead, or giving up on the story, and don't let anyone make you think otherwise. I was gone Saturday - Monday to a cabin up north which, needless to say, did not have a computer. Tuesday and Wednsday I had my last exams of the school year, and am now officially done with school. Today I went to my brother's graduation ceremony and toured the zoo with my grandmother. When I came back from that, I took a three-hour nap, and went to karate. When I came back from that, I found out that I will not have access to my computer for a week.

Information on that is avaliable at my livejournal, which you will have to get at through my profile page (it's just a few clicks, it won't take that much time), because ff.net is being a bitch and not letting me link to it. For the very lazy, you can just type in www [dot] livejournal [dot] com [backslash] users [backslash] aletsan, eliminating the spaces and replacing [dot] with . and [backslash] with / and so on, but it'd really be easier to get at it through my profile.

Aaaaaaaand last and definitely not least. Below is a little story that I have just written -- and I mean "just." Typed right here in ff.net, never seen the face of Word. It is not the next chapter of HBT, but it is a little advance-apology-story for not updating for a week and then having to be gone for another one when the story is this close to being done. **I** think it's pretty nice but ... well, you decide for yourself.

* * *

Gold is burnished brown. 

That alone is not enough to smooth the differences between them -- after all, they are really no more alike than brown is to orange. Close, but not quite close enough. Not enough to end hostilities, not enough to smother attraction.

Each of those traits were currently trying to burn the other away.

Gold is the heart of fire, burning.

Fire is hot, so hot that at close distance it is hard to be aware of anything else. Hot like lust, smoldering in the skin. Hot like anger, boiling in the blood.

Enough heat, and all you can feel is cold.

Gold is a cold metal, chilly and impersonal. Cold like That Look, that crushing, dismissive sneer. Cold like the pit of a stomach when reacting to another's danger. Cold like ice and boiling water.

Gold is also glittery and shining and too soft and too heavy to be of any practical use, so there is only so far a simile will stretch. Gold is not dangerous and strong and intelligent and honorable and loyal and sarcastic and amusing and surprisingly tender as long as no one can see. Gold does not snarl and yell and fight when pushed too hard, and gold does not sit by a futon for hours and days when the occupant is sick or injured from one of his many fights.

Gold is not the perfect exampe to use -- but gold is the color Sano sees flashing from Saitou's eyes when they argue, and gold is the color that burns from under almost-closed eyelids when they kiss, and Sano loves it.


	76. Look in the sky! It's a bird! It's a ...

Riiiiiiiiiight. Because I am so very very guilty, and because I have not written anything in it-feels-like-frever, and because my computer won't be fixed until Monday at the earliest, here is another little story/thing.

* * *

Katsu did not have much to remember his lover by. A week stolen here, a month taken there, a lingering scent that was gone in a day or two, a deliberately "forgotten" item of no consequence other than that it was his. Little more than that -- but no less. 

In a perfect world, he would have moved in with his lover by now, or his lover in with him. It need not be said that this world is not a perfect one. Katsu had responsibilities in his city, his lover had his own in his. Both demanded time the men would rather spend with each other. Neither could be abandoned for more than little periods of time.

Katsu knew this, and his lover knew this, and they each knew the other knew, and they each knew that the other knew that they knew, and in the end, everyone was -- if not happy -- satisfied in their mutual knowledge.

Each would have thought less of the other (though admitting that pained them both) had he forsaken his responsibilities for his own pleasure. Another point of shared knowledge, another "I know you know, I know you know I know."

They each would rather have it another way, but, knowing that this was the only way they'd have it at all, they were willing to be content. Their moments of shared time were all the more exquisite for their rarity.

Perhaps it would not always be like this. That was a thought it pleased Katsu to entertain, and he knew his lover though similar things. Obligations sometimes lasted forever, but sometimes they did end, eventually. Perhaps things would change. It was not a practical musing, but one Katsu liked to dream of on cold nights, when dreams and memories played a poor second to a familiar body at keeping him warm.

Perhaps it would always be like this.

Perhaps it would not.

Perhaps.

Katsu thought of what articles he would put in the next issue of his newspaper, and how much it would cost to get that corner of his roof to stop leaking, and how much of that money Sano would drink and eat when they met tomorrow, and of when he would next see his lover. And he smiled.

* * *

What is the pairing, you ask? Well -- don't look at me. I don't really know. There are two people it could be, though. Aoshi is obviously one. The other ... well, he also lives in Kyoto. You can't see it, because the "new and fucking improved" ff.net won't accept asteriks (the little things you get when you press shift-8), but I am laughing evily. 


	77. 75

"Aoshi-sama! Aoshi-sama!"  
  
Misao pelted through the dojo with all the consideration of a hungry rhinoceros – or, very little, for those fortunate to not be acquainted with the habits of a hungry rhinoceros. She rushed into what had lately become the "conference room" – the dining room, completely ignoring a furious Yahiko she'd knocked over on her way in.  
  
Aoshi had looked up as soon as she stepped in, a fact which made her glow (as she also ignored the facts that a) Aoshi would have looked up for anyone, and b) it's very hard to not notice a girl making all the noise of a herd of stampeding horses). Misao ran right up to him, panting only slightly – but that didn't matter.  
  
"Aoshi-sama! A messenger bird came from Okina," here she passed him the message it had brought, only slightly crumpled, "and there's trouble at the Aoiya!"  
  
Other heads snapped up around the room, if they hadn't already (the room was currently occupied with, discounting Aoshi and Misao herself, Kenshin, Kaoru and Sano – Saitou likely would have been there, but he did have an actual job to be doing, and was probably even now pouring over reports and legalities in the police station), and Kaoru even stood up slightly.  
  
"Trouble? What kind of trouble, Misao-chan?"  
  
Misao looked at Aoshi to see if he was going to answer, but he was reading the message she had given him (for the second time, she figured, since the note really wasn't that long, and Aoshi-sama was a very fast reader), so she decided it wouldn't hurt to tell the others.  
  
"There's a new ninja group in Kyoto – well, they call themselves a ninja group," Misao sniffed derisively, "but they're really just a band of thugs. We were going to just let them be, but they didn't think so. Asimoyu Isaka, the Okashira of this new group, has issued a challenge: 'The Okashira of the Yadebashuu presents his humble request that the Okashira of the Oniwabannshuu would meet him at the eastern abandoned temple in Kyoto for an honorable duel in three days time.'" She scowled after completing the recitation, as if the mere act of saying it left a bad taste in her mouth. "Basically, he wants to fight us, just because we're here! That's so not fair!"  
  
"That does sound bad." Kaoru frowned, but before she could say anything else, Aoshi deliberately cleared his throat, causing Misao's attention to immediately snap back to him.  
  
"It is most inconvenient, Misao," the tall man acknowledged, "but what do you hope for me to do about it?"  
  
To say that Misao's expression was "startled" would be technically correct, though perhaps a bit less accurate than to say that there was a "rather large" amount of stars in the sky. Had Aoshi been anyone other than Aoshi, he probably would have sighed at this point – but, being Aoshi, he merely continued on patiently.  
  
"The challenge is expressly stated as being between two Okashira's, Misao – and I am no longer the Okashira of the Oniwabannshuu."  
  
"R-right!" Misao's expression ran the gauntlet from "surprised" to "chagrined" to "determined" in less time than it took for Sano to disappear at the mention of work. "Of course you aren't! I'm the Okashira! I just – I just wanted to – to – to let you know about it because you'd be the only one that didn't and it's my job to keep my ninjas informed!"  
  
Had Aoshi been anyone other than Aoshi, his lips may have quirked into a momentary, indulging smile at this point – but, being Aoshi, he merely spoke.  
  
"That is good – that is what a wise Okashira would do." He allowed her a moment to bask in the praise before continuing with a question that knocker her expression right back down to "flabbergasted." "When do you leave?"  
  
"W-wha . . ."  
  
"You are the Okashira," he reminded her patiently, "and the one to whom the challenge was issued. You must answer it, and even if you leave soon, it will have already been a day since the challenge was given. You will want at least a day to prepare for the meeting, I should think."  
  
"But . . ." Misao's face would be humorous, in the right setting, but now the expression of total confusion was a bit pitiful. "Aren't . . . you . . ."  
  
"As an Okashira, Misao, you are strong," Misao was into wide-eyed astonishment by now, but this time Aoshi wasn't going to give her an opportunity to react. "My presence at this meeting would have no meaning, and I have already promised my aid to Saitou. You do understand, of course."  
  
"I-I-I . . . yes." The stunned amazement was slowly fading from Misao's eyes, to be replaced with pride and an iron determination. "Yes, I understand, Aoshi-sa-san." She looked up at him, and the conviction in her eyes at that moment was unsurpassed by anything in existence. "I'll get packed now, and go to Kyoto, where I will show Asimoyu that the Oniwabannshuu are still the strongest."  
  
Had Aoshi been anyone other than Aoshi, he may very well have grinned with pride at this point – but, being Aoshi, he merely nodded slowly, with the faintest of curves to his lips, and watched Misao run back out of the room at a speed similar to the one she came in with. Kaoru, with a slight bow to the men left, followed Misao out of the room, and Kenshin, Sano, and Aoshi continued on their discussion of how they might use the information given to them by Saitou to help Katsu.  
  
A few minutes later, when the conversation had lapsed, and Sano began to pace again, Aoshi cleared his throat and looked at Kenshin.  
  
"Battousai . . ."  
  
"You wish for me to go with her, Aoshi, do you not?" The small man smiled a knowing smile, before taking a sip of his tea (which they all had, but which had been made by Kaoru, and so Kenshin was the only one actually drinking his). "You wish someone to go with her to keep her safe, should circumstances develop beyond expectations. Yet, you cannot go yourself after telling her what you just did, that you cannot. She would think that you had no faith in her – and if you had not said what you did, it is probable that she would not have the confidence to meet this man in the battle it is likely to amount to. Besides, you did give your word to Saitou-san that you would help, and you do not like to go back on your word, that you do not."  
  
Aoshi stared at Kenshin for a moment, eyebrows slightly raised, before giving a small hmph.  
  
"Very little escapes you, Battousai." The words would have been almost critical, were it not for the fraction of a smile, quickly hidden, that accompanied them.  
  
Kenshin responded with a bland smile, and murmured – just loudly enough to be heard – into his tea: "I believe that Kaoru-dono will chose to leave with Misao-chan, and, as capable as she is, I do not wish for anything untoward to happen to her, either, that I do not."  
  
Aoshi may or may not have replied, but Sano stopped pacing and started to demand why they weren't thinking of ways to help Katsu, and all three of them went back to work again.

* * *

**12 CHAPTERS LEFT!!!! w00t!!!!!**

Alright. To everyone who is actually still reading this, I would like to say that a) I'm so terribly sorry for the wait, but b) this chapter was totally HELL to write and c) I can explain away my absence, for all except the past umm . . . week or so as "I HAD NO FREAKING COMPUTER OR FILES OF MY OWN! /cries/"

For the answer to the question "So what the hell were you doing the last week or so, then?", I tell you [see statement b)].

Thank you so much everyone who reviewed the two little extra thingies, but I am far too happy to be done with this chapter to reply to reviews left for filler chapters, and would actually rather not even respond to reviews left for the last _actual_ chapter. Hope you understand.

**Kuroiyousei:** The Realization truly is the best, isn't it?

**shizukashin: **Don't worry, Katsu and Aoshi _will_ be together. Aaaand you don't have too much longer to wait, because the person who will die will die . . . seven chapters from now. :D

**blah:** Oh, that's nothing . . . I know someone who isn't dead, but hasn't updated her story in over TWO YEARS NOW, not to name any names but it's _Strider! _;)


	78. 76

It was with no little horror and a faint twinge of panic that Katsu realized he'd rather spend time with Kijou than spend time alone. Usually, the only cure for this insanity was the presence of Kijou herself, which quickly reminded Katsu exactly why he'd spent so many years alone after he left Kijou.  
  
And _there_ was a tricky question. Why on earth was he developing an aversion to his own company _now_, after so many years? He couldn't explain it, other than maybe recent weeks had gotten him accustomed to the presence of other people. He couldn't understand it. He –  
  
"Katsu!"  
  
He cringed at the voice, and at the spark of relief that rose in him at the sound of the voice – relief from boredom, he was sure, and it warred equally with disgust. It _did._ Now if only he could convince him-_Kijou_ of it, as he himself obviously needed no convincing at all . . .  
  
Kijou swayed closer to him, invading close enough that it distracted him from all other thoughts. He leaned away as much as he could, but he was somewhat limited by the ropes binding his hands and ankles together . . .  
  
"Silly Katsu," Kijou purred, leaning close enough that all conflicting feelings in Katsu unified into a single thought of _get away from me, bitch_, which he would have vocalized if he thought it would have done anything other than get her angry, and if she hadn't continued on at that moment. "Don't you think it's past the time for playing hard-to-get yet?"  
  
At that remark, Katsu felt compelled to answer – he even opened his mouth angrily to do so, but was effectively silenced.  
  
By Kijou's mouth.  
  
On his.  
  
_Kissing him._  
  
All things aside (such as his current feelings and bound state), it wasn't even an _enjoyable_ kiss for the few seconds it lasted. Her lips were far too full and soft, squashing unpleasantly against his, and the cosmetic she used to tint them that eye-watering red was thick and waxy and not at all pleasant-tasting. Her hand on his chin was too grasping and greedy, and her long, sharp nails dug into his skin hard enough that he wouldn't be surprised if they drew blood as she forced his mouth to stay open. Her tongue, which she forced in as soon as she could, was slimy and unpleasantly moist, and ancestors, did the woman even know _how_ to kiss?  
  
Katsu didn't think, he just reacted. Had his hands been unbound, or even if they had been tied in front of him, he likely would have hit her. Had his legs been free, he likely would have scrambled away. Had she not had such a death-grip on his jaw, he would have at least wrenched his head free. However, none of these were options, so Katsu did the one thing that was.  
  
He bit down on her tongue.  
  
_Hard.  
_  
And, well, damn him if he didn't feel a rush of joy when she scrambled away with a pained yelp. A coppery taste filled his mouth, letting him know he had drawn blood, if the red leaking out of Kijou's mouth was not enough proof. For a frozen minute they stood there, Kijou standing, hand over her mouth, breathing hard and bleeding, her eyes burning cold with anger, and Katsu, kneeling, adrenaline making his breath equally labored, his teeth stained with blood that wasn't his and bared into a defiant snarl. He spoke first.  
  
"I hate you, you fucking cunt."  
  
In retrospect, that wasn't the best thing to say, but Katsu was beyond caring. The pure wrath that rushed into Kijou's eyes told him that he was not about to pull something like that off without any retaliation, but he didn't care about that, either. If asked, he would have said that he would have preferred another way to be rid of the conflicting feelings he had, but there was something to be said for efficiency.  
  
"Oh really." Kijou's voice was tight with fury, and her posture was the image of enraged affront. "You would do well to change your mind."  
  
She swept out of the room dramatically, but she didn't close the door. Katsu may have wondered why she did that, but before he could, two of her muscled, granite-faced "guards" stepped in, and he knew. _These_ men were professionals – they didn't waste time on taunts or threats, not did they pause to let the knowledge of what was to come sink into Katsu (they didn't need to, but that was beside the point) – no, they went straight for the pain.  
  
As blow after blow slammed into his body with cruel accuracy, Katsu could only curl up into a ball and try (unsuccessfully) to avoid the worst of them. Briefly, he wondered if Kijou had given them any orders about how far to go, but soon the sheer blinding agony erased all coherent thought. He thought he heard something break with a dry snap, but the pain was quickly (blissfully) overriding his senses, and it wasn't very long at all before he slipped into unconsciousness.

* * *

Argh. That was a very long time between chapters, _especially _since my computer was working. . Feel free to cause me all the mental and/or physical pain you wish. And you think there are 11 chapters left, but there's really only 10, because I've decided to cut the cheesy "last"-chapter-that-is-really-just-a-setup-for-the-sequel. So you're all one chapter closer to finishing it, and you didn't need to do anything! Everyone go YAY!

And, to the TWO WHOLE PEOPLE who reviewed, even though it took me FOREVER to get around to writting this chapter (and maybe an hour to actually _write_ it): I LOVE YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1one. :D

**Kuroiyousei:** Have I mentioned to you how glad I am that _someone_ agrees with me in thinking that 75 is one of the coolest chapters ever? I mean, I've got a chapter with the single purpose of getting rid of Misao ('cause she's annoying and she'd want to go, and I can't think of what she could do), Kaoru ('cause she's totally extraneous, and at least this way she gets to be cool) and Kenshin ('cause he'd totally FUCK EVERYTHING SIDEWAYS if he went), and I go and churn out _that_. That is some totally awesome shit, there, man. . I love it so much. (And I hate the damn "new and improved" ff.net, for not letting me use underscores or asteriks .)

**blah:** HAH. It's not 11. I FOOLED YOU. Now you have to skip a number. :P


	79. 77

Katsu opened his eyes with a groan, wincing as knives of pain stabbed him every which way. A familiar voice nearby caused his eyes to snap open in dismay, and he beheld the immaculately-dressed form of Kijou standing above him.

"Oh Katsu, Katsu, _Katsu_. When will you ever learn?" She knelt down next to him, and he realized with dismay that he couldn't move away – couldn't move at all. Poison, he realized with a start. A very mild variant of poison, that left him immobile and in pain, but otherwise unharmed. "You always do things like this, Katsu. Why? You know I love you . . . why do you always have to make me hurt you? You must know I don't want to."

Katsu would have taken this time to respond to this if he had been able to, but Kijou continued on, not waiting for a reply she knew he couldn't make.

"I hope you appreciate it, Katsu -- you make me do so many things I don't want to. So many things . . . like that dear old man you lived with. I didn't _want_ to do that, but well . . . you left me no choice, both of you. You really had best appreciate it . . ."

_. . . dear old man . . . didn't want to . . . no choice . . . dear old man . . . old man . . ._

She said more, but Katsu's brain stopped functioning by that point, the implications of Kijou's words being more than he could quite bear.

_Yokuzoma-sensei. _

__

* * *

__

Okay. Point # 1 -- YOU GUYS ARE FUCKING AWESOME!!!!!!!! Seriously. Check the little number up there by the word "reviews." Yes, it really _does_ say 200. I am quite busy doing the Dance of Copious Joy, thank you. My deepest thanks to everyone who's reviewed -- you make the chapters come faster, and I am not lying. :-D I love you all.

Point #2 -- Before anyone gives me any shit about how late this chapter is, and how short it is for how late it is . . . don't. Just . . . just don't. If you must know, _this _was written in about 45 minutes. It was what this was _going _to be that gave me shit for two weeks. Oh, and I officially have no idea how many chapters are left. Less than ten, but beyond that, I don't know.

**Kuroiyousei: **It is the best line ever, isn't it? Yay me for updating again!

****

**Lychee2: **Heh. Silly Lychee -- what makes you think I'll wait till the last chapter to kill Kijou? :-D Unfortunately, I have no plans for her to be ripped to pieces by a fanmob . . . though I might be persuaded to write a little piece to that effect. :-P

****

**blah: **And "pthhhhbt" right back at you, dear. ;-)


	80. 78

Some rather impatient knocking at the door eventually drew Kijou away from Katsu, which irritated her quite a bit. Of course, she had trained her bodyguards to never answer the door, but it would be nice if they could recognize the situations when they _should_. She managed to smooth her expression into one of serene content before she opened the door, which was good – the man was a policeman, and Kijou had always tried to be as courteous as possible to policemen.

It made it easier to get away with all the various, less-than-legal pastimes she indulged in.

This man was new, though – which meant that she had to be extra-polite to him. Drat. She smiled at him anyways, a very nice smile despite her inner irritation, and he bowed to her, tipping his hat with a very agreeable expression on his otherwise unhandsome face.

"Is this the residence of Tatamisu Kijou?" He spoke with a pleasant enough voice, but Kijou could tell immediately that this man would be easy to charm. It was something in the way he carried himself.

"It is." She graced him with an even wider smile, and a polite bow. Mustn't let him see that she could barely tolerate the interruption he was. "Please, come inside Officer . . . ?"

"Fujita, Tatamisu-san. And I thank you for the invitation."

Kijou smiled as he walked past her, but her thoughts were racing furiously. She needed to give this man what he wanted and get him out of here soon – the immobility poison she had given Katsu was only temporary, and it was going to wear off soon, if she couldn't get another dose in him in time. She turned, meaning to say something, but he spoke again before she could.

"Tatamisu-san, I am here to warn you that you may be in danger."

Elsewhere in the house, two shadows crept in, unnoticed by the guards, and began their search.

* * *

Okay. Who is the shit? I am the shit. I may have ignored you guys for a week, but I make up for it by posting this chapter less than four hours after the previous one. GO ME.

And yes, in case you weren't sure that Kijou was a stupid bitch, I give you proof. Besides, she doesn't think Saitou is hot. She needs to die for that alone. :-P

Oh, and something I forgot to do last chapter. All of you, right now go and type into your browser_ "livejournal . com / communitiy / paradisedown"_ without the spaces. And check it out. For it is roleplay. And it is fun. And I am (a) moderator, fools. AND IT IS AWESOME.

Yes. That is all. Only one review to reply to, because I am so super uber fast and sweet like that, no one else had _time_ to review. w00t!

**kuroiyousei: **:-D Now _who on earth_ would save him, is the question . . . :-P


	81. 79

Sano did not appreciate having to creep past the few solitary guards he and the ninja had (almost) encountered – but if sneaking would get Katsu back, then he would sneak across Japan. Luckily, the clothes he wore didn't make much noise, though he had gotten a few sharp looks from Shinomori for a step that was a bit to heavy here, a breath a bit to large there. If he didn't know better, he'd say that the ninja was as serious about getting Katsu out as he was – but it was probably just his personality. Man's face'd probably shatter if he had to smile.

They were slinking along a long hallway, Shinomori in front with a blueprint of the house. That map . . . something he should probably thank the bastard cop for, Sano acknowledged grudgingly. Maybe he could find a way to do so that didn't require any actual _words_. Or . . . well . . . any contact at all. Sano briefly became absorbed in the ways he could absolve his debt to the psycho cop without actually coming within a 50-meter radius of him, and didn't notice when Shinomori came to a complete halt. He did notice when the man's back appeared – out of nowhere – a fingerwidth away from his nose. The furious glare of the ninja was slightly less noticeable as Sano peered around the tall man to see why he had stopped.

Guards – not the little pussy-looking, one-man "patrols" they had skirted by before, but actual large, muscular, kick-your-ass-and-make-you-eat-it _bullyboys_. There were about ten of them, and they all looked like they'd gladly slit their mama's throat for one rin. The shadowy outline of a door was behind them – but there was no way anyone'd be able to make it past them like that – which meant they needed a distraction.

And Sano was just in the mood to do some "distracting," too. Funny how things worked out that way.

Shinomori reached out and tapped something on Sano's arm, before drawing back with a frown, remembering that Sano couldn't speak whatever freaky-ninja-spy-Oniwabanshuu code he was using. Oh well. Sano grinned, and motioned for the ninja to step back, happy now with the arrangement they had worked out beforehand (which, at the time, was something Sano had protested vigorously against).

Sano stepped back, judging the angle and distance as best he could. It wouldn't be a real Futawe, not really – the impact wouldn't even be close, so his hand should be fine if he hit it _just right_ . . .

The blow to the ground took less than a second. The shockwaves that rippled the ground in the hall and under the feet of the guards (and Sano and Aoshi, but they were braced for it) lasted for no more than five seconds. It took seven more for the confused guards to regain their balance, by which time a wildly-grinning Sano had been able to run up to them and take the first one down with a punch to the skull. By the time Sano counted three heartbeats, Shinomori had already slipped past the confused and angry guards and into the next hallway without them noticing anything.

In the next second, all that could be seen of Sano was a flash of white and brown here and there, as the flailing fists and meaty bodies of the guards closed around him.

The house shuddered and rattled, shaking the many ornaments in their places, and Kijou jumped.

"Madame has not been back in Tokyo very long, has she?" The officer's placid voice caused Kijou to snap her head around again, though the slight panic she felt was being replaced by embarrassment.

"N-no," she replied, no longer shaken, but playing the part of a weak-willed woman who was. It was easier to convince men to do things when they thought she was weak. "I had forgotten about the earthquakes. Please, continue with what you were saying – there is a kidnapper loose in Tokyo?"

* * *

Some clarification: 1) If a _yen_ is worth 1 unit, and a _sen _is worth 1/100 of a unit (which it is), then a _rin_ is 1/1000. That is all nice and official and really the way they do things in Japan, currency-wise (though inflation's so bad, I'm not sure if anyone ever uses rin anymore . . .).

2) Don't ask me for sources, because I can't quite remember, but I am more than reasonably certain that earthquakes are mildly common in Japan, and yes, for those of you that have never lived in a geolocially active place, you can get little ones like that that last a few seconds and don't do much damage -- so I'm not (_quite_) pulling that part out of my ass. On a related topic -- if the earthquake is strong enough, _yes,_ the ground _will_ ripple like that. Try walking outside during an earthquake: the ground's like gelatin.

And for the people who are going to jump on me for using side effects of both a strong and weak earthquake to describe the same event: Sano's punch was like a very _very_ small earthquake, localized to the few dozen square meters or so from the site of impact. In _that_ area, which is where the guys where, then yes, it was a pretty powerful earthquake -- say 8 something on the Richter scale. Over the _whole house_, which was where Kijou and Saitou are, it had dissapated, and was much much weaker -- at most a 3, probably even less than that. The range of effect would not last far past Kijou's house (it's a big house).

Right, I'm sure that was more than any of you wanted to know. Now, onto my wonderful reviewers.

**Lychee2:** Gyah. You must have reviewed 80 just as I posted 81 -- I swear to god I did not intentionally ignore you. ::is beating self over the head:: And yes, that's about what Katsu's gotta do. Man, don't you just wish that _someone_ would just come up and _stab her?_ :-D :-D

**Kuroiyousei:** Yes, you are teh awesome. We all know this. As for Kijou!dying . . . you know, I was thinking the same thing. She really needs some help . . . I _wonder_ just _who_ could _ever_ do that for her? :-D

**Strider:** It is abuse! Have you looked at the crap that gets put in that category?? CRAP. Not like mine, oh no. Mine's _shit_. Some damn _high quality shit_ too. :-D And now you must tell me how you feel about this chapter EVEN THOUGH I KNOW YOU'RE AT WORK. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAAHAHAH! :-P Because that is what you _get_ for giving the author your screen name. And for being her friend. But mainly! s/n! :-D


	82. 80

No matter how much he respected Kenshin's ideals, and no matter how much time he spent around the little guy, Sano knew he could never get tired of fighting like Kenshin did. There was something about the primal rhythm of _punch punch kick_, something about the feel of knuckles hitting flesh, something about losing yourself in the blood rush and adrenaline of a fight that Sano knew he would never be able to give up, not for anything.

One of the guards got a lucky punch in on Sano's ribs that sent him back a few feet, and he winced a bit. He could take much more damage than these guys could ever dish out, but still. Maybe he would get around to learning a few blocks one day. Not that what the psycho cop said had anything to do with it . . . he'd just be able to last even longer in a fight if he could avoid getting hit so much.

Sano whirled around, whipping his arm in a wide-angle backhand that hit everything behind him indiscriminately – in this case, three more guards. One of the guys on his other side grabbed the shoulder and tried to pull Sano in close – probably to throw him, or do something like that. What actually happened was that Sano went along with the pull, throwing the man off balance, and got behind him, landing a solid punch in the kidneys. If that hadn't been enough to knock him out, being thrown into another man was certainly enough to do so.

Sano whirled around, looking for another guard to beat up, but he realized with a smile that all ten of them were lying on the ground, unconscious or groaning. Unfortunately, his victory was short-lived. The sound of rushing feet echoed from all of the corridors, and more guards poured into the hall.

Shinomori was probably going to kill him for being the cause of that, Sano reflected as he launched himself into one of the groups of guards that had arrived – all in all, there were about three or four times as many this time around.

With that many people, at least one or two of them were probably terrified by the grin on Sano's face as he came at them.

* * *

Um . . . real short chapter again . . . there's about . . . three . . . or four . . . chapters left . . . um . . .yeah. Fucking with the timeline here . . . oh, I don't know.

Now, I could have spent a few more pages detailing how exactly Sano beats up those 40 more guys but, honestly, even to someone who takes karate and _can_ picture how that fight goes (coughcoughmecough), it's still pretty boring to write. Oh, and EVERYONE. Read the story I wrote recently . . . it's called _Hangover Remedy_. I cannot say any more, but I am the greatest thing ever for writing it. :D

Reviewers!

**Kuroiyousei:** Well, Aoshi and Katsu are still apart, and Kijou is still alive . . . but NOT FOR LONG. :D

**Cynical Chaos:** Popcorn, maybe? Some beer? :D I hope you have not been dissapointetd by the large ammounts of crappiness and sappiness that is in this thing . . . most of the crap will be CUT OUT BY THE RED EDITING PEN OF DOOM, DOOM I SAY, though, so I guess . . . just please grin and bear it, will you? :D

A/N, ADDED 7-31-04. PLEASE READ: Due to "recent infration(s)," I have been denied the ability to create new stories, or to add new chapters to my existing stories, until August 2, 2004. This "recent infraction(s)" I have violated appears to be _"The chapter system is not to be used as placeholder for non-story content such as author notes. You can add short author notes to the beginning or at the end of stories but never as individual chapters_."

I guess after TEN AND A HALF MONTHS of it being there, they just snapped, and were COMPELED BY JESUS CHRIST THE LORD AMEN to take down my disclaimer. I am considering that official authorization by the admins that I need not post a disclaimer for this story.

In the non-irritated/sarcastic news today, I'm _really_ sorry about this guys, especially since there's so little left to go. Hopefully, the delay won't kill anyone, or I will devise some other means to put up the new chapters. (Just thank god I'm getting my own site, WITHOUT ads)


	83. 81

". . . so while this started out as a simple case of a few missing commoners, the target has now become the wealthy – specifically, wealthy women such as yourself, Tatamisu-san."

The officer droned on further, explaining to Kijou why she should worry about something that was not a problem at all, and Kijou tried _very_ hard to keep a civil expression on her face. Katsu's medicine would most certainly have worn off by now – he might be too injured to move, thanks to his impertinence, but _still_.

The sound of running feet drew her attention like honey draws flies, and Kijou tensed. She looked sharply at the officer, noticing how his posture had changed from agreeable and petty to wary, and spoke in her most imperious voice.

"What have my guards found that interests them so, Officer-san – they have been trained to respond so only to threats and intruders."

He smirked – smirked! – at her, and produced a piece of paper. Kijou snatched it out of his hand, and staggered when she read what was in it.

"A-an arrest warrant?!?"

"How you train your guards is no business of mine, Tatamisu-san," the officer said smoothly, his amber eyes hard and harsh like she had never seen before. "It soon will not be yours, either."

Kijou stepped back, her eyes blazing. "How _dare_ you?"

"Aku soku zan," the officer smirked. "Of course, there is still the legal aspect to be done at your imprisonment, but . . ." He raised an eyebrow, the arrogance on his face unmatched by anything she had ever seen (but only because the vision she saw and the face the mirror reflected were rather different). "One can always hope."

"Oh really?" She stepped back one more, and smiled viciously. "I'm afraid it will not work out like that, Officer." A discreet signal, and her five best guards stepped out from all around the officer, swords unsheathed. "There will be a _legal aspect_ to clarify, of course," she sneered, "but surely the police office will understand, a pretty, frail woman, her dedicated guards, a crazed policeman . . . why, none of the blame could _possibly_ fall on me. Guards!" She snapped, "kill him! And, Officer-san," she called, as her five best closed in on him, "I'll see you in Hell!"

Kijou turned to walk out the door, but the sound of numerous bodies hitting the floor stopped her in her tracks – and if that hadn't, the blue-clad wolf that appeared between her and the door would have. The officer smiled, and Kijou felt her blood run cold.

"Undoubtedly you will," came the smooth response, "but it will not be today." The officer held his bloody sword out, further emphasizing the barrier between her and escape. "Now, you are under arrest. I will escort you to the police station peacefully, or I will do so by force. It is entirely you choice."

Kijou growled at him, and the arrogant tone in his voice, and the prospect of imprisonment. Even if they did not convict her (of course they wouldn't), her reputation would be _ruined_.

_She_ would be ruined.

An idea came to her, and a slow, cruel smile spread over Kijou's lips. "I shall come with you, Officer," she said, stepping forward, "_not at all!"_

She charged forward, and, over the short distance, and with the element of surprise, it was too late for the officer to do anything. Before he could react, Kijou had impaled herself on his sword, her eyes blazing.

"What do you say _now_, Officer?" She hissed at him, her breath coming in short gasps due to pain, but her victory smirk still in place. Gut wounds took awhile to die from . . . she would have time to say what she needed to say. "What do you say _now_, now that you have killed an unarmed _woman?_ What will your _superiors_ say?"

_I win¸ _Kijou thought with a mad joy. _This disgrace will surely haunt him for the rest of his life . . . I **win**._

He gazed at her dispassionately, and she snarled at him for not reacting suitably. When he sighed, and opened his mouth to speak, her eyes glowed to hear the lament that would surely come out – briefly, then she gasped with pain as the sword was turned within her body and jerked up through her torso.

"Aku."

His golden eyes glowed as he wrenched his sword out of her body, and she fell to her knees, overcome with pain.

"Soku."

She struggled to look up, and managed to lift her head just in time to see a silver arc descending slowly – after all, what reason did he have to hurry? – and then the sword bit into her neck, and she knew no more.

Saitou watched the severed head roll across the floor for a moment, before fishing out a piece of cloth and cleaning his blade. Once it was sheathed, he took out a pack of cigarettes and lit one, taking a long drag and exhaling.

"Zan," he said, to nothing in particular. Then, shaking out the match and tossing it on the floor, he grumbled a bit to himself. "Damn ahou."

He closed the heavy European-style door behind him when he left.

* * *

Okay, who else is loving this chapter as much as I am? Don't be shy now. :D Okay, yes, yay, my account is unfrozen again. I'd ask the person who reported me who they are and why they did it but a) it doesn't really matter and b) as they haven't yet, I doubt they have the moral integrity to do so. _Anyways_. As of now, HBT is officially done. Not that this is the last chapter, but all the chapters are written, and I am now in the process of rewriting it. The next two chapters will go up over the next two days, and hopefully by then it will also be rewritten, and my site will be up. Be happy.

**blah:** Oh, so that's why you've been gone for so long. :D I almost thought you had stopped reading. And all is fair in love, war, and writing fanfic. :P


	84. 82

Aoshi removed himself from behind the pillar he had hastily hidden behind as a horde of guards stampeded by him, and made a mental note to hurt Sagara for that later. Hopefully, the boy could keep the guards distracted for long enough – Saitou had given them a map of the house, yes, but there was still no telling where the bitch was keeping Katsu. He'd already tried five rooms, and each of them had been quite noticeable in their lack of blue-eyed, long-haired artists. The sixth door stared at him balefully, and Aoshi carefully opened it, mindful that there _could _be guards in it. Not likely, after all the noise Sagara made, but possible.

There were no guards, but there was a black-haired man lying with distressing stillness on the floor. Aoshi wasted no time in rushing over, kneeling by Katsu's prone figure and turning him so he lay on his back. A pain-filled groan that would have had Aoshi frantic with worry at any other time instead relieved him so much he didn't notice when Katsu's eye's opened.

"Hey . . ." Aoshi _did _notice when Katsu spoke in a tired voice and lifted a trembling hand to tug at his sleeve. The taller man opened his mouth to speak, but found it covered by fingers that still – still – had ink-stains. "Hey . . . your turn's in a few minutes, okay? I'm gonna talk now."

"Katsu . . ." Aoshi wanted to remind him that they could talk later, wanted to get Katsu out of this house as soon as possible, but something in Katsu's eyes made him relent, just a bit.

"Okay . . ." Katsu leaned back with a pained grimace, and Aoshi started as he realized that the artist was covered in mottled bruises and injuries, old and recent. Clear blue eyes looked up at him frankly. "I'm in . . . quite a bit of pain here, really, so when I'm done, do you think you could somehow . . . somehow knock me out in a way where I won't have any lasting damage?" When Aoshi nodded, reluctantly, Katsu sighed in relief. "Good. You do that. Okay. The thing is . . . the thing is that I like you. I like you a lot, really, and I wouldn't mind seeing if I could maybe love you. No, don't say anything." Katsu's fingers pressed again against Aoshi's lips, and Aoshi stayed in wide-eyed silence. "I know there are better places to say this than in the house of a psycho bitch who would probably have you killed if she heard that, but I am _really _beyond caring. Now can you _please_ knock me out here, because this _really fucking hurts_."

Aoshi stared at Katsu in disbelief for a few seconds before his last words registered. Numbly, he reached out and struck Katsu _just so_ on the back of his skull . . . very lightly, too. With luck, by the time he woke up he would have already been given enough medicine for his other wounds that he wouldn't feel the headache. He picked up the now-unconscious artist, trying to hold him so that none of his injuries were aggravated, and walked back to where he left Sagara.

When Aoshi got back to the hall, all bodies were strewn everywhere. A cursory glance told him that the majority of them were merely unconscious (as he already knew they would be) . . . and that "the majority" included Sagara. Must have collapsed after defeating the guards . . . about fifty of them, if Aoshi counted right, which meant that they must have been fairly skilled, for Sagara to fall after only fifty. Just to be sure, though, he gently set Katsu down, and reached to check Sagara's pulse.

A noise at the doorway made him look up, though he already knew who was standing there.

Saitou was staring at the fallen Sagara – not with an unreadable expression, which was his norm, but with almost no expression whatsoever. "Almost," because his eyes were just a slight bit wider than usual, his pupils dilated just a fraction of a millimeter.

Aoshi would not have been surprised if Saitou's world was starting to crumble at the corners – he should reassure him, quickly.

"He is unconscious, but his pulse is strong," the ninja said, steadily watching the policeman and looking for a reaction. "He is in no danger of dying at all."

There was a slight flicker, perhaps, a small flash of – relief? gratitude? happiness? – something in Saitou's eyes, but then he sneered, and it was as if nothing had ever been there at all.

"Of course he is – that ahou is too stupid to die."

Still, Aoshi could not help but notice as he walked to pick up Katsu again, Saitou was remarkably careful – almost _gentle_ – as he lifted his human burden off the floor, and his hand clutched a bit tighter than was necessary to that white gi.

And, unnoticed by all, two shadows crept out of the house again.

* * *

When I wrote this one, I was so unbelievably happy with it, but by now I can recognize all the things I should have added and didn't. And that is what rewrites are for. :D

**Faery:** I know you do. ::kisses::

**Lychee2:** Well, there is a reason that is known as the "Pit of Voles." Likely some whiney little 12-year old bitched to them about a story having sex in it, and they took it down. The only reason I am staying here is that it is good publicity (sorta). Otherwise, I would have washed my hands of them _long _ago. (I am a review-whore at heart, as Strider is fond of telling me.) Sorry, no gratuitous snogging . . . _this chapter_. :D As for the Saitou/Sano bit . . . well, what do you think the sequel is going to be??? :P


	85. 83

Katsu was painting. The injuries he had gotten at the hand of Kijou's bully-boys were still healing, and it hurt to move much, so there really wasn't much else he could do. At least _painting_ hadn't been deemed "too stressful" for someone in his "condition."

Katsu understood perfectly why Sano and Takani-san were treating him like he was made of glass, but that didn't mean he had to appreciate it.

The door opened and closed, but so softly Katsu could barely be sure that he had heard anything at all. That meant it was Aoshi, then. Still painting, Katsu waited to see if the ex-ninja would make his presence known, or if he would go about his business trying to not disturb him. Probably the latter, if, as Katsu guessed, Aoshi didn't know Katsu knew he was there.

Aoshi wasn't as oppressive about his coddling as Sano was, so Katsu didn't mind it as much.

There was however, the matter of the faint squelching sound Aoshi made with every step. This did not seem to be something that could be ignored. He spoke, though he didn't turn or stop painting.

"What on earth happened to you?"

"Misao and Yahiko were being rather rambunctious." If Aoshi was surprised, he gave no notice of it. "Himura was doing laundry, and . . ."

Katsu chuckled, and wiped some paint off of his brush. "Say no more."

Aoshi didn't, but there were rustling sounds behind him – Aoshi getting dry clothes, most likely, and changing into them. Katsu had to bite his lip to remind himself not to turn and look. Eventually, the noises ended, but the door did not open again, and Katsu realized that Aoshi was staying in the room.

"What are you doing?" He asked, again without turning from the painting – not that he was concentrating very hard on what he was painting. It looked like it was going to be a painting of a rather large cat, which was fine.

"Watching you paint. I will leave, if it disturbs you."

Katsu heard Aoshi get up, presumably to leave, and quickly spoke.

"It is no trouble. Stay, if you wish." Aoshi sat back down again, and, after awhile, Katsu spoke. "I hate people."

"Wha—" Aoshi began, confused, but Katsu continued on relentlessly.

"I hate people. I'm terrible at social situations – the most polite term I've heard is "a complete boor." I can't cook anything other than plain rice. I have to know where everything I own is. I spend weeks at a time where I do nothing but investigate for my paper, breathe, eat, and sleep, in that order of importance. I get extremely sarcastic when I'm angry. I'm miserable company when I'm bored. I hate getting up early. I'm just a little homeless. I –"

"Katsu." Aoshi's voice was calm, and tinged with humor, and Katsu stopped mid-tirade. He still didn't turn to Aoshi though, keeping his eyes focused strictly ahead of him. "I am not a social man. I like plain rice. I keep a neat room. When the Oniwabanshuu was still active, I was away for months sometimes. I do not offend or get angry easily. I am a quiet riser. And," Katsu wasn't looking, and couldn't see, but he could definitely hear the faint smile in Aoshi's voice. "I am an innkeeper. There are always extra rooms . . . if you do not object, that is."

Aoshi's tone trailed off to where it could be called almost hesitant, and Katsu closed his eyes, savoring the implications of what had just been said.

Then he looked away from the painting.

At Aoshi.

For a long time, they merely looked at each other, green eyes and blue locked. When it finally happened, it wasn't exactly clear who moved first, or if they both moved at the same time, but they would have been hard-pressed to care as their lips met.

It wasn't a passionate kiss, and it _definitely_ wasn't a brotherly kiss, and it wasn't an overly gentle kiss, but it was a very nice kiss. Aoshi's lips were warm and firm against Katsu's slightly chapped ones, and if there wasn't that much tongue involved, neither missed it. Katsu broke it, or perhaps Aoshi did, or perhaps they separated at the same time, but that didn't really matter either. The gaze shared between them was different now, and not just for being made from half-lidded eyes and a fraction of the distance.

Fifteen seconds and fifty years later, Katsu's solemn expression broke to reveal a languid smile, which was soon returned by Aoshi. He reached a hand up behind Aoshi's neck, and pulled the tall man's head down to rest their foreheads together. The silence was sacred, and neither dared profane it with words. Eventually, Katsu released Aoshi, but it was still a few moments before they moved apart. Aoshi smiled, and brushed his hand against Katsu's cheek – a caress Katsu turned into, pressing his lips to the fleshy mound of skin beneath Aoshi's thumb.

Then, all this completed, and with one last smile, Katsu turned back to painting, and Aoshi, to watching him paint.

* * *

Right. Well, if _that _wasn't the sappiest freaking ending ever . . . well, at least Kijou died in the best way ever. Okay, look for the sequel, that I will start cranking out as soon as I can come up with some sort of plot other than "Saitou and Sano realize they are madly in love, and fuck each other until their balls fall off." Look for it -- I don't know what the title will be, but it will probably be the next RK fic I put on Well, the next one _after_ this other one that I am also putting up right now. :D

PEOPLE. IF YOU WISH ME TO RESPOND TO YOUR REVIEW (and I will be _more _than happy to do so) THEN LEAVE AN EMAIL ADDRESS.

**Faery: **211 is a good number. But 213 is better. But **212 is the best**. And that was you. ::so many kisses:: So much love for the Faery. So so so so much love. :D

**blah**: So many hugs for one of my most dedicated reviewers. :D And I look forward to your take on the future fics I will put up. :D


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